Purgatory
by Air Condition
Summary: Nagato had finally fufilled Yahiko's wish. Nagato had finally become God of the world. Things were diffrent than he had expected. NagatoXKonan, hints of YahikoXKonan.
1. Introduction

It was terrifying how quickly a human life could be extinguished.

How quickly cities could be destroyed.

How quickly power could shift from the hands of many, to the hand of a single person.

It was terrifying that such a power existed.

Terrifying that nobody could stop the apocalypse.

_God has damned us all._

* * *

"…_I can see it…"_

That is all He says. She understands. He is exhausted. He is injured. He needs to rest. Actually, He had needed that for several days, now. Despite Her begging, yelling, and reasoning, He refused any kind of help until his work was complete.

"_Not until there is peace." _He tells her.

He explains that they needed to finish it _now_. They need to seal the Kyuubi _now_. If they wait, there could be problems.

"_Yes. Do it now."_The Uchiha agrees. _"When we are finished, an era of peace will begin."_

Of course Madara would encourage him. God's health isn't his concern. To be honest, he didn't expect God to survive this long. His death is part of Madara's plan.

"_Do you have enough chakra to do this, Nagato?" _She asks him.

"_Yes."_

Perhaps that would've been the truth if the others were still alive. With ten people, sealing the Kyuubi would've been much easier. But, there were only five. With ten people, it took three days. With five, it would take a week. A week without rest. A week without any kind of help. In His current condition, that isn't an option.

"_We can do this ourselves."_ She offers.

"_No. It will take longer."_

"_We need to do this quickly." _Madara says again. _"We will be attacked if we wait."_

Arguing with them seems to be futile. The quicker they start, the quicker He will be able to rest. The Juubi stands motionless, waiting to be whole again. The ten tailed beast, split into nine different demons by a God. Now, it was about to be put back together by another. It was going to be unleashed upon the world.

* * *

She watches Him closely that week, somehow managing to be subtle about it. Madara watches, too. Madara watches to see if He will die. Madara watches to see how far He will go for peace.

"_You're holding back." _Madara notices.

She sees that, too. She is grateful for it. For once, He seems to be listening to her.

_Don't hurt yourself._

Unfortunately, He takes Madara's observation as a challenge. A challenge to push Himself, even in this condition.

"_It doesn't matter."_ She protests. _"We have more than enough chakra to handle this."_

Nobody else comes to His defense. Nobody else would dare to argue with Madara.

"_It'll get done faster if he's not holding back."_

That is true, and she knows it. It seems like a lose-lose situation at this point. If He holds back, it will take longer, and He won't get any rest. If He didn't, He will lose more chakra, and it will take longer for Him to recover. She goes silent, letting Him continue however he wants. As long as the result isn't death, it can be fixed later.

For the first time that week, her eyes stray from Him, and scan the rest of the cave. The others seem fixated on the Juubi, imagining what power it could have. Nobody knows, and that worries them. Would anyone be able to control it? Would anybody be able to direct its power to Akatsuki's advantage? She follows suit, and looks up at the face of the monster. Eight of the nine eyes have already been opened, and the last one has begun to crack. Perhaps it is her imagination, but the last eye looks different. The color is different. Red?

No, her mind must be playing tricks on her. She is tired, just like everybody else. She brings her focus back to Nagato, and hopes that He'll be okay.

_Please don't overdo it._

* * *

A/N: I promise that most chapters will be much, much longer than this. But, this is just an intro, and I left it short. This is going to be more of a 'what if' kind of story, where Nagato finally gets his wish, and becomes the 'god' of the world. I'll probably be talking a lot about Nagato, Yahiko and Konan's past, too. (Some of it canon, some of it I just assume happened.)

Also, nobody has really explained what the Juubi is quite yet, but I think it might be the giant statue Akatsuki has been using to absorb the other nine beasts. I could be wrong, but I'm going to go with that assumption for now.


	2. Apocalypse

There is blood on her hands.

Blood on her clothes.

Blood on the floor, the wall, the ceiling…

There is blood everywhere, and they are unfazed (because that's all they can be.)

She envies that.

He looks magnificent with his blood-spattered cloak, she thinks. She's used to telling herself that so she can stand to look at him after battle. It's been a habit ever since her teenage years, when Pain was still Yahiko, and God was still her friend. Back then, she could stand the blood when she was fighting for her life, with adrenaline coursing through her veins and death flying toward her from any given direction. Once it was over, things were a bit different. It made her sick to think about where the blood came from, and how it got there, and whose it was. Yahiko was always covered in it after battles. She told herself he looked more… _heroic_ or _manly_ or _dashing _or _something_ with the blood streaked across his face.

But, the blood isn't such a problem anymore. It doesn't make her think about the pain someone went through to shed it. She is capable of keeping a straight face even when it has painted a room red. Telling herself that Pain looks so '_something_' just makes it that much easier. She's can't tell if she actually finds Pain more attractive this way, or if it's just her coping mechanism. She couldn't tell when it was Yahiko, either.

"_He's dead." _

The statement echoes through the cave and pulls her back to the task at hand. There is a dead man on the floor, and she approves of that. Better him than Nagato. She would let the whole world suffer a horrific death before she let Nagato go down. (Because for her, Nagato is one of the few things that make up her world. The rest will never matter.)

She pulls her eyes away from Pain and the dead man on the floor to assess the damage that Nagato has taken. Maybe the sight of blood doesn't bother her anymore, but the sight of God's true form makes her uneasy. It isn't something she is going to get used to. The blood had made her uncomfortable because she knew that she had hurt someone so badly that their life had literally poured out of their body. Nagato makes her uncomfortable because she is incapable of stopping the thing that is slowly killing Him. She is never going to be okay with that.

Today, He looks better than she is expecting him to. He is still capable of speaking, obviously. That's a good sign. She can see His chest move with every breath He takes, even if it is slow and labored. His visible limbs are still intact, and His eyes are open. He looks as if He'll die any second, but that's not unusual, and He probably won't die without warning.

…Probably.

"He's dead," Pain repeats for Nagato, as if to reinforce the fact for the three others in the room. The only responses to such an unbelievable statement are murmurs and grunts that Nagato simply interprets as a crude acknowledgement of the fact.

Kisame, Zetsu, Nagato and Konan are the only four people left alive in the Akatsuki. The rest have died, or are at least considered dead. Madara died just a few minutes ago, and nobody is exactly sure how it happened. The only clues are the bloody paintings across the cave, and some inconsistent eyewitness accounts. There has been a fight, for sure. Quite a few of Nagato's other bodies are scattered across the cave, too damaged to use. Even Pain has been damaged, though not enough to incapacitate him.

She is relieved (though surprised) that He has won this battle. Most of those bodies were already damaged thanks to the Kyuubi, and Nagato didn't have the time or energy to fix them all up completely. He had made them move again, but nothing beyond that. She doubts that He will fix them up for a long time. Not that she cares about the rest of the bodies. As long as Nagato and Pain are still working, the rest can rot in hell.

"It's time for the Juubi to show this world some pain," Nagato announces, His voice stronger than she expects.

A few approving nods from the rest of the group is all that He is looking for. Once everyone has agreed, Nagato begins to leave, and she follows behind Him like she always has.

* * *

Konoha is the first to go, and the attack seems unnecessarily brutal to her. The Juubi is much more powerful than the Kyuubi that attacked all those years ago. Besides that, there is nobody to stop the beast, and seal it away. Pain goes and helps, killing almost anybody who He can get his hands on.

Oh, and what does she do?

She watches them scream.

She watches them run.

She watches them bleed.

She watches them die.

No, wait… She doesn't just watch.

She helps.

Why?

Because He tells her to.

* * *

Every village has to be destroyed, according to Him. It doesn't matter if it's large and well-known, or if it's just a little row of houses with five people living there. All the while, she watches his condition deteriorate, and wonders how He manages to fight off the assassins and ANBU that come after them.

They do stop to rest once in a while, after He's too dehydrated, tired or otherwise unable to function at an acceptable level. Even then, it takes some work to make Him stop. After a bit of talk, she manages to convince Him to rest for a while, or eat a decent meal. Word of the apocalypse spreads fast, but some places have managed to avoid the news. Some have never even heard of Akatsuki, meaning that their black and red cloaks don't cause panic among the townsfolk. They regard her and her God as simple travelers (Though Nagato's condition seems to worry them.).

Of course, their kindness is met with malice. After a day or so, the little villages that treat the two travelers so well learn to fear Akatsuki. That is, if anyone from the village manages to survive. That doesn't happen often. Nagato kills, and marches straight out of town. She takes anything that can be helpful while at the same time being easy to carry.

* * *

She thinks that as they march across the land, each village they go after will be even more difficult to destroy than the last. She thinks that for a long time.

Somehow, she is proven wrong. It seems to get easier, actually. Perhaps it is because they've become a bit more experienced at destroying opposition, or maybe it's because villages are running out of allies to use as extra defense. The sick look Nagato gets in his eye as the people fall in front of Him doesn't bother her anymore. It used to. He loves the Juubi, it seems. The Juubi doesn't fail Nagato. Ever.

Neither does she. She's too scared to let that happen.

What exactly is she afraid of?

She used to know, but can't remember anymore.

* * *

She's lost track of time, now. The days blur into one another, and the only thing she knows for sure is that it's either day or night. She tried keeping track of the date a while ago, but that didn't work. She guesses it doesn't really matter anymore. The world is ending, who cares what day it is?

* * *

She's been out in the sun a lot lately, and it's strange to look at her hand and see that it doesn't look so pale and ghostly. She's not _tan_ or anything, but she's not almost see-through like she usually is. Pain still looks like a ghost. She finds that a bit ironic.

* * *

The variety of terrain that is found in the world seems like an obstacle course. Not for her, but Nagato has a hard time making His way along a sandy area or around a dense forest. Pain and the other bodies can knock down trees and push away rocks, but they can't make it easy for Him to scale a steep hill or keep Him from sinking down into the sand. They also can't keep him from burning under the desert sun, or cutting himself on a sharp thorn. She tries to help, offering her cloak as an umbrella (or sometimes forcing it on Him.) and stealing medical supplies from places they've been.

Among the list of difficult places to navigate is the ocean. They can't just _walk_ to Water Country. They need a boat. A boat alone isn't hard to find, but finding one that's big enough to carry all of them is a bit of a struggle. They find one soon enough, though it happens to be a boat for a Royal Family of some sort. Not that it matters, seeing as the family is probably dead by now. If they're not yet, they will be.

The ride feels longer than either of them expect, though it's probably because neither of them have ever tried to navigate a boat before. They stop at the first place they come across, and manage to find a sailor. It's not hard to get him to cooperate, considering he can't fight back. Like Nagato said, humans are a weak species. One man is willing to sell out hundreds of lives for the promise of his own. Nagato promises to let him live. She almost laughs at that.

He has broken plenty of promises before.

This one is no different.

Nagato uses the Juubi to destroy the Water Country, and kills the man as soon as they have returned to the mainland.

What a surprise.

* * *

A/N: Alright, second chapter! Point out any mistakes you see, I'm sure there are some. I would've written more on this chapter, but that would've messed with my timeline...


	3. Illusion

A/N: I really liked how the previous chapter came out. I was trying to put more of a focus on Nagato and his… not-so-wellbeing instead of the whole world being destroyed. I feel like Konan would be more concerned with Nagato than some random little villages, even if that sounds a bit extreme. Anyway…

* * *

When Pain was first created, she used to forget that Yahiko wasn't himself anymore, though that only lasted a few weeks. She remembers that she used to accidentally call Him Yahiko at first, and Pain would always correct her (calmly, never yelling.). She used to talk to Him when they were alone and tell Him that she was worried about Nagato, or mention that she wasn't fond of Nagato's plans, or tell Him something that she didn't want Nagato to hear. Pain would stare at her.

And stare.

And stare.

And stare.

And then she would suddenly realize that it was Nagato's eyes staring so intently at her, and she would quickly try to take back what she had said. It never worked, and thankfully, Nagato would never bring it back up.

She still thinks of Pain as a separate being from Nagato, though they share one mind. She still thinks of Him as Yahiko sometimes, because it's impossible not to.

She was so used to having Yahiko to talk to, and it is _still_ difficult to come to terms with the fact that he is dead.

Sometimes she wishes Nagato was dead, too.

She always regrets that to the point of self-hatred.

* * *

She doesn't know what to say when they finally get back to Amegakure. Nagato looks tired, and she thinks it's about time He got some rest. She tells Him that she's happy to be home, and even happy to feel the rain (Not that He seems to care.). One thing she doesn't say is that she'll miss the rest of world. While they were traveling, Nagato only saw the human race, and their flaws (she can't blame Him.). She saw that, along with the few things she actually liked about the world. Yet, she thinks she'll probably forget them before long.

They go into the city under the cover of night; with the storm clouds blocking out any light that could reveal their presence. The streets are empty, and if she didn't know any better, she'd think everyone was gone. But, she does know better. The villagers are in their beds, feeling safe under the false protection of their God. She wonders if they've heard the rumors of the apocalypse outside, and if they still feel safe. News could've reached the village _somehow. _There are still survivors roaming the world. Not everyone is dead, because Nagato never intended to destroy everyone. If He did that, His reign of peace would be impossible. He wants to teach humans, not destroy them. Well, 'teach' seems to be a loose term.

She walks beside Him until they get to their tower, and heads straight for her room, intending to sleep. She is tired, and knows that He is, too. However, Nagato doesn't go for His room. Nagato begins ascending the tower.

"Where are you going?" She asks.

"Amegakure is still a child," He tells her. "It needs to evolve."

She pauses for a minute, and then realizes what He's implying. Amegakure has not been struck by the apocalypse. Amegakure has to learn. Nagato is going to teach His people the way of the new world order.

He is going to kill them.

"They worship you already," She tells Him, unsure of why she is even bothering to argue.

"Some do," He corrects. "Others doubt or reject my existence. Amegakure must know its place in the new world."

She drags herself behind Him, feeling as if the staircases are larger than they were when she left them. She follows Him out onto the ledge, and tries to stay in the middle, fearing that she'll fall off because she is so tired. Nagato's other bodies drop down to the ground, and scatter. He is not going to release the Juubi on Amegakure. The Juubi would cause more damage than Nagato wants. He lets the other bodies carry out His mission quietly, and she watches a few of the people run through the streets after they realize what's happening. They run to save themselves or others from God's wrath. Of course, such an amazing feat is impossible. Believers and agnostics alike are killed, and He watches in satisfaction.

Somewhere between the screams and the thunder, she realizes that she could easily be one of those victims. She's lucky to be an 'angel'. She's lucky to be free of God's scrutiny. She's lucky that God will never turn on her.

At least, that's what she tells herself.

That's probably what Yahiko told himself, too.

It's scary when she thinks about it, because he was wrong.

* * *

"Konan, I think I've got a plan." He told her one night, staring at the blankets covering his burned legs. She opened her eyes, slightly upset that he had to wake her up for this.

"What is it?" She asked him, completely unprepared for what he was going to tell her.

"I think I'm going to become God."

She thought he was joking at the time (Though she was too tired to laugh.), remembering when Yahiko had said such a thing when they were kids.

"And do what?" She sighed, waiting for some sarcastic answer.

"Teach the world that war is bad."

He sounded like a five-year-old, she thought. Even the pitch of his voice seemed to have gone up.

"Good luck with that." She said, closing her eyes again.

"Konan?"

"…Hm…?"

"I… I think I'm going crazy." He told her, his voice shaking with what she assumed was exhaustion. She opened her eyes and looked at him, wondering if he actually meant that.

"You're just tired, Nagato." She told him, hoping he would go to sleep. "You've been awake for too long."

"I can't sleep. It hurts."

She already knew that.

"Whatever happens to me… _us…_ I promise I'll keep you safe." He told her. "This'll never happen again."

She watched him tremble under mental the pain of Yahiko's death and self-blame, and the physical pain of his legs and the rods protruding from his spine. She wanted to help, but couldn't think of the right words to say.

She still can't.

* * *

The sun has never been a welcome visitor in Amegakure, and even the apocalypse can't change that. Clouds are the only inhabitants of the sky, and they never leave. He always tells her that they're for protection. However, she doubts that rain is really necessary at this point. It hasn't even been one day since the Juubi blew planet earth to hell, and nobody has tried to retaliate (Not yet, anyway). Would it be so bad to let Amegakure see the sun, just for a few hours? Of course, she doesn't ask Him. It's a stupid question, and she already knows the answer.

Instead, she looks out the window, and thinks that the clouds seem a bit thinner today. Maybe she's just going crazy. Maybe she has forgotten what Amegakure looks like after being away. Maybe it doesn't matter. The clouds are always the same; why would today be different? She decides to go see Nagato's other six bodies today. She wants to make sure that they are still intact.

To her surprise, Pain is not with the others when she goes to see them. The helmet has been pulled up, which means that Nagato has taken Him out. The other five are in their place, and completely motionless. She could ask Nagato where He has put their friend, but she already knows. She steps outside to confirm her suspicions, and the rain stops in an instant. It's an invitation (Or perhaps a demand.) to join Him.

Without so much as a second thought, her body breaks into a cloud of paper, and drifts up to the statue that the residents of Amegakure have made to honor their God. As she expects, Pain is sitting on the tongue of the statue, observing the city below. She puts herself back together just behind Him, leaning against the stone in order to fit on the small platform. The rain begins to fall almost immediately, leaving her stranded with Deva.

"You're up early." She remarks, knowing that neither of them had gone to bed until the latest hours of the night.

He doesn't have anything to say about His sleep patterns. That's not why He's up here, and that's not why He wanted her to join Him. He has been waiting for her for about an hour, because He wants to show her something. He pushes Himself up, and steps back to make room at the tip of the statue's tongue.

"Come here."

She steps forward, and squeezes by Him to reach His usual seat, where He wants her. It takes a few moments for Him to decide that she's not close enough, and pushes her forward until her shoes start to hang off the edge. She looks down at the streets from the dizzying height, but it's not scary. It's easy to keep her balance. He grabs her arms, as if to keep her from falling, and presses Himself up against her back. It's not necessary for Him to hold her like this, but she doesn't tell Him that.

"It's beautiful." He says.

She scans the city's gray and foggy skyline, but doesn't see what He's talking about. She refuses to ask. She's afraid that He'll be disappointed in her ignorance.

"True peace is impossible." He tells her. "This is as close as the world will ever get… A world with temporary peace. A world without war and dispute… a world without hatred."

"Is that what you see?" She finally asks.

His silence tells her that her assumption is correct. She stares at the buildings and the rain for a little longer and tries to see it, too. Her efforts prove to be futile. The city looks the same as it always has. The sky is still gray, and the buildings are equally colorless. Rain is still falling from the sky, and Pain is here, ruling over the people as a God. The only difference is the lack of life down in the streets.

"This is what Yahiko imagined." Pain says, his voice becoming more passionate. "This is what he wanted."

She thinks it's strange, hearing Him talk about Yahiko that way. Pain sounds, looks, and feels just like Yahiko (because that's all Pain is.).

"You see it, don't you?" He asks, though it sounds more like a statement than a question.

"Yes." She lies. She doesn't have the heart to tell Him what she really thinks. She doesn't tell Him that He's wrong, and that nothing has changed. She doesn't tell Him that there is still hatred, and that most (all) of it is aimed at Him. There isn't war yet, but she knows that it's coming. People aren't going to ignore such a horrible act of cruelty, even by a God.

"It won't last long. Enjoy it while you can, Konan."

There's a hint of sorrow in His voice, and she hopes He's realizing that this plan wasn't worth it.

"What are you going to do when it ends?" She asks, wondering if He has thought of something.

"Repeat everything."

"Release the Juubi again?" She asks, trying not to scream.

"There's nothing else we can do."

_We._

He's including her in this plan; taking her help for granted. Of course, she enabled His reckless behavior earlier. She had helped him last time. It's her fault that He's dragging her into this, and she knows it. She'll do it again. What else can she do?

He lets go of her eventually, and she doesn't move. She waits until He leaves, and the rain dies down to a drizzle. She drops down to the ground, and walks home. She could easily use her paper jutsu to fly there, but she doesn't. The few remaining residents of the village give her nervous looks as she walks by. They're afraid that another horrible thing has happened. They think that they have angered their God, and that they have been attacked as a punishment. Perhaps God's angel has come down to carry out another punishment?

Luckily for them, they are wrong. Nobody has done anything wrong, and Konan isn't there to hurt anybody. Nobody needs to be punished (that she's aware of, anyway.). She simply walks through the street in a dignified manner, just like He taught her. She is an angel, and everyone should be able to see and respect that (or so He told her.).

The only time she actually flies is when she gets home, because she doesn't want to walk all the way up to the top of the tower. She goes through the window, and takes one more look at the city, hoping that she'll suddenly be able to see what Nagato sees.

…She can't.

She never will.

She takes a bit of comfort in knowing that Yahiko would've agreed with her. This isn't what he wanted. This isn't what he died for. This is what _Nagato _wants, and He's using Yahiko as an excuse. Nagato took Yahiko's words, and twisted them to fit His own desires. Nagato took his morals, and broke them until they matched His sick ideals. Then he took Yahiko's body, and turned it into a monster.

She could say she tried to stop Him, but that would be a lie.

* * *

She remembers watching him bring Pain to life. He took pieces of the rods on His back, and used them to create His own personal army. She watched the chakra receiver pierce Yahiko's skin, and heard it break his bones. It was sickening, but Nagato promised her it would be beautiful when He was finished.

(He tells her that a lot. Maybe there's something wrong with her, because recently it's always ugly when He's finished. She used to think that he made beautiful things.)

She remembers watching Yahiko's body twitch as Nagato tried to figure out exactly how to make Pain move. It took Him a few days. He figured it out eventually, and was ready to bring Pain to life. First, He made Pain's heart beat, and she watched as He took His first breath. She watched his hands curl into a fist, and she watched as Nagato managed to make Him sit up. She stared at his face, waiting for his eyes to open. She loved Yahiko's eyes. They were such a nice shade of blue, lighter than her hair. She liked looking at them.

She was almost devastated when his eyes opened to reveal such a sad color. They were a dark gray, like Nagato's. They had rings around them, like Nagato's. They looked angry, like Nagato's. It was such a contrast from Yahiko's ever-smiling, sky-blue eyes. Pain's closed again moments later, because Nagato wasn't used to looking in two different directions at once. He learned how to direct the chakra and make the muscles respond like He wanted.

Watching Nagato learn to use Yahiko like a puppet was an unpleasant experience. It was clumsy and child-like as He learned to control it, speak through it, and fight with it. She would always be afraid when He sent it into battle. Always afraid that it wouldn't come home in one piece, or at all. She wanted to bury it. She wanted to leave her friend in peace. She thought maybe this was some sick phase.

It wasn't.

* * *

"You should be sleeping right now." She tells Him.

"It's light out. It's lunch time. I should not be sleeping, Konan."

"You woke up early while in horrible condition. You need rest, Nagato."

She's talking to Pain, finding it easier than going up to see Nagato Himself. He's sitting down near the window, looking out at whatever nonexistent thing He thinks He sees. Pain looks up at her like some kind of defiant teenager when she tries to control him, and she _almost_ finds it funny because Yahiko still looks so young. Almost.

Not quite.

"Concern yourself with your own needs, and I'll take care of mine." He tells her.

'_I __need__ you… to rest.' _She almost says, but manages to bite her tongue. She doesn't want to argue. Not now.

"What are you doing that's so important?" She asks instead.

"There has to be a way to make this peace last for a while without the Juubi's intervention."

She stays silent, praying that He'll think of something less devastating.

"Maybe I'm being foolish, Konan. Maybe there isn't."

She tries to help Him think of something, but she can't. He has spent twenty years poisoning her mind with lies and convincing her that the Juubi is the only path to peace. She knows there's another way, but she can't remember what it is.

* * *

A/N: So, hope you liked that chapter. New one coming eventually.


	4. By Force

A/N: I'm sorry updates are taking so long, guys! It's very hard for me to write serious fanficiton.

* * *

Things are different now that Nagato is God: things are quieter, days are slower, and nights are more restful. He seems a lot calmer, and maybe even a bit healthier. She has certainly noticed herself looking better, no longer needing to hide the dark circles under her eyes with makeup. They're both eating regularly and have a decent sleep schedule, though occasionally she'll stay up with Him because of some sort of paranoid delusion that _someone _is going to attack. Yet, one thing does worry her. Her God's goal in life was to bring peace. That is done (for now.). He seems… different.

Eventually she builds up the courage to ask Him about it. She comes up behind Pain, who has been sitting on the ledge of one of the many windows, staring at the rain for hours (she's not quite sure how long.). She taps Him on the shoulder, and then remembers that He can't feel it.

"Pain," She says, waiting for Him to notice her. He doesn't move for a few seconds. She wonders what He was thinking about as her corrupted friend turns to look at her.

"What is it?" He asks.

"You've been sitting here for hours," she tells Him, "Are you…?"

"I'm _fine_," He interrupts, tired of hearing the same question every day.

"I wasn't going to ask you that," She says firmly.

"Oh," He mutters, taken aback.

"I was wondering if you…"

Her voice trails off as she realizes she doesn't know exactly what she wants to ask. She never asks Him many questions, and the ones she does ask are so mechanical that she hardly has to think about them. This question is different; something she hasn't asked in a long time.

"What?" He presses.

"I don't know," she admits, "You've been here for hours doing nothing. Are you… bored, I guess?"

"Bored?" He repeats, wondering why she would ask such a strange question.

"You haven't done anything for days. You just sit here."

"I'm not _bored_," He tells her, hissing the word through His teeth as if it's some sort of curse, "Things are just different."

She remains silent, waiting for Him to elaborate.

"There is nothing I _can d_o," He continues, "Nobody needs a God right now. Everything is at peace. I have served my purpose, and for right now I don't have one."

"You could do something… fun, I guess," She says.

"Fun?" He repeats her yet again, this time He seems puzzled by the word.

"That was a stupid suggestion, never mind," She says, turning to walk away in shame.

"Wait," He commands.

"What is it?"

"Sit down," He tells her, nodding at the empty space on the ledge. She takes the seat, feeling like a little kid again. She used to like sitting on Amegakure's pipes or rooftops with Nagato and Yahiko. It seemed so safe, and yet there was always that possibility that someone could fall. She can't remember why that was 'fun'.

"Say something," He says.

"What do you want me to say?" She asks, so accustomed to her God controlling simple things like her words.

"Start a conversation."

She tries to think of a good topic, but that's difficult. They've already talked about everything they could possibly care about. Well, except for life _before_ Pain. She doesn't want to start that, though. He could get angry. She thinks about the usual topics, like missions or local gossip (not that she has heard any.). He wouldn't care about either of those things, and quite frankly, everyone in Ame is sick of discussing the weather. She gets uncomfortable as He stares at her expectantly, and looks away from Him.

"How is your day going?" She finally asks, at a loss for anything else to say.

"…Fine," He says, disappointed in her lack of creativity.

"What do _you_ want to talk about?" She asks, hoping that maybe He only wants to talk because He has something to say.

"I don't know."

They sit on their ledge in silence, looking down at the two or three people in the streets. The civilians walk slowly, dragging the weight of sadness down the street with them, mourning those that have died. They wonder why their God didn't protect them from the monster, so pitifully unaware that their God _is_ that monster.

"The humans will have to repopulate this place eventually," He tells her. She somehow manages to hide her confused and slightly red face.

"How long do you think it'll take?" She asks.

"Humans are weak; they'll probably take a long time to get over their dead friends. I don't think they'll repopulate until they're… happy."

She wants to tell Him that He shouldn't be talking about such a feat, because even a blind man would see that He is _still_ upset about Yahiko. To be fair, she is still upset, too, but there is one difference between the two of them. She is willing to admit it.

"What about the rest of the world?"

"A few places are probably already repopulating. It's been a long time for some people. A few of them must've found others to mate with."

She sits quietly and listens to Him, all the while wondering why He insists on talking about them like common livestock. She wonders what He thinks of her. He calls her an angel, but she knows she's human. She wonders if He knows that, too, and if He only calls her an angel so she doesn't take the accusations to heart.

"I want you to do something tomorrow," He tells her.

"What is it?"

"I want you to go talk to them. Convince them that I am still watching over them. Convince them that they are safe."

"They probably won't believe that."

"You are their angel. They have to believe you, even if it's done by force."

"You can't make someone feel safe through force."

"I did."

She falls silent, struggling to understand exactly what He means by that. She doesn't like the conclusion she comes to, but decides not to argue. She watches His eyes scan the skyline, stopping to observe certain buildings or people. She listens to the rain until it's deafening. It sounds so steady, almost like static. She barely hears Him when He continues to talk.

"I need to find a way to monitor the rest of the world. I don't know how I could do that."

"Nagato?" She asks.

Pain looks at her. She almost flinches, expecting Him to be angry at her for calling Him that. He doesn't seem to care.

"If you're going to monitor the rest of the world… Shouldn't you wait?" She continues.

"Wait for what?"

"Wait for Amegakure to stabilize again. I think the whole world is too big a task for you if you don't have a stable… home."

"The entire world is unstable right now, Konan. I don't expect Amegakure to be any better than the rest. It will stabilize on its own time; I do not need to-"

He pauses suddenly, and Pain seems to freeze like some sort of machine.

"What's wrong?" She asks Him.

"I'll be back in a minute." Pain tells her, moving once again. He gets up quickly, leaving her alone on the ledge. She follows far behind Him, hoping He doesn't hear her. He walks into Nagato's room, which she finds a bit strange. She walks faster, becoming concerned. When she gets inside, He doesn't even try to hide the fact that He is annoyed with her. She doesn't notice, though. She's too busy looking at the blood.

"What happened?" She asks.

"Nothing, the sheets caught on my arm," He growls, trying to get her to leave.

She stares at the bed, and then looks at His arm, where one of the studs seems to have been pulled from its place, now uncomfortably stuck in His skin a few centimeters away. Such a small wound seems to bleed a lot more than it should, and she sees why He brought Pain here. The extra hands are useful, bringing some towels to clean up.

"I'll get you some gauze or something," She says, moving toward the door.

"No."

"You're bleeding, Nagato."

"I don't need it."

She moves closer to Him, trying to see just how badly He is injured. He flinches when she reaches out to touch Him, and pulls His arm away.

"Let me see it," She says, moving closer still.

"Don't touch me," He commands.

Usually she listens. Today, however, she goes against His judgment. She doesn't want to deal with an infection or some other consequence if they ignore it. She reaches out to pull the towel away, but He grabs her wrist before she can. His grip is a lot tighter than she expects.

"Do _not_ touch me," He says again, glaring at her as if she's some sort of threat. She glares back at Him, hiding her fear. He lets her go when she stops struggling, and she moves a few steps away.

"If that gets worse, I'm getting help."

"You'll get help? Nobody in Amegakure is allowed to see... this," He says, almost sounding ashamed of His appearance.

"I'll help you myself."

"You can't force help on someone who doesn't want it," He tells her.

'_You did.'_ She wants to say.

She wants to say a lot of things, actually. Most of them involve a lot of cussing.

"Stop worrying," He says, "You act as though we're still children. Perhaps I accepted it then, but it's different now."

She keeps her mouth shut. No matter what she says now, He'll be annoyed. She stands awkwardly between Nagato and Pain, who are both staring at her. She remembers how these scenarios played out when they were younger, though she doesn't think it's right to say that they were 'children'. She remembers it was so simple. She would help, and He would accept it, even if He really wasn't hurt.

After Yahiko died, she was the last person He would even _consider_ taking help from.

* * *

She remembers it was only a few hours after his death. She had made it back to their camp, and gotten help for Nagato. 'Help' being a lot of useless medic-nin who couldn't fix Nagato if they tried.

Out in the middle of nowhere, a tent had to suffice as the hospital for the group of rebels. However, that tent was already filled, so Nagato was taken back to the tent the three of them had called 'home', or a place to sleep, anyway. They had guards to watch the entrance, and they kicked her out as soon as her little cuts and bruises had been fixed, telling her that they needed to be alone to fix Nagato and Yahiko (even though she knew Yahiko was already gone). They told her that she was lucky. She hated that. Luck could only last for so long.

Standing outside the tent, she could hear Nagato _trying_ to yell at the medics. His voice was so weak that it hardly sounded intimidating. They talked back at him for a few minutes, insisting that they were going to help. Whatever they were doing must've hurt Nagato a lot, because he kept telling them to stop. Either that or he didn't want to be helped. She's still not sure.

After a while, he stopped trying to scare them by yelling, and his already shaky voice deteriorated to what she could only guess was sobbing. She could barely make out his words (if they were words at all), and she sat with her back against the tent, waiting. She felt the rain soak through her clothes, barely caring that she was starting to get cold.

She started shivering after a while. The guards told her that she should go inside some other tent, and get changed. She shook her head and ignored the temperature for as long as she could. It wasn't the cold that ended up bothering her. She started to tear up eventually, and what would usually just be a warm tear felt like a goddamn _fire_ on her cheek before fading with the rest of the water falling down her face.

She was mad at herself for crying. Or rather, she was mad at herself for not crying earlier. Her crying seemed to be for all the wrong reasons. She was crying because she was mad at herself for not mourning Yahiko earlier. She was crying because she was mad at herself for not being sick over Nagato's pain. She was crying because her eyes stung because of the tears. She was crying because she was mad at herself for crying over such useless things.

She didn't like any of this failed logic.

The war in her mind suddenly ended when she heard something break inside the tent. Actually, it was more like smashing than breaking. It sounded like glass, and the guards in front of the tent rushed inside to see what was wrong. She took advantage of the break in security, and snuck inside behind them.

What she saw inside the tent was a lot less gruesome than she expected it to be. At least, it was for a moment. There was broken glass on the floor and whatever was in it had spilled, but the label on the side proved that it was nothing dangerous. Just some water. The doctor and nurse stood a few feet away from Nagato's bed, the nurse's hands still glowing with healing chakra. They were staring at the guards, who showed no interest in helping.

Once she looked at Nagato, she thought understood why everyone looked so scared. His cloak was gone now; she could see his body. She almost threw up at the sight of it. It looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks, he almost looked dead. He was so thin. The only normal-looking part of him seemed to be his hair.

And then, he turned to look at the guards, and she saw his face. She suddenly understood that it wasn't his condition that was scaring everyone.

It was his eyes.

He looked _so_ angry. Nagato had killed people by sheer willpower before (though not recently), and she honestly believed he could've murdered everyone in the room in less than three seconds if it wasn't for his condition.

"If _any_ of you touch me _or_ him, I will break your arms."

His voice was still shaking, and she couldn't tell if it was because of his anger, his pain, or from sobbing.

"We're trying to help you. As for Yahiko... I'm sorry," The doctor told him.

"You've helped me enough. Leave Yahiko alone."

"We just want to bury him, we're not—"

"Why would you bury him?"

"To be blunt, he's dead," The doctor spat, tired of Nagato's attitude.

"No," Nagato said, starting to smile. "Death is reversible."

"No, it's not. Death is permanent."

"I think you should leave."

"I am not going to leave simply because a delusional patient tells me—"

"I am now the leader. Isn't that right?" Nagato asked.

"…I guess you are, with Yahi—"

"I'm commanding you to leave. Get out."

The doctor and the nurse quickly walked out of the tent, muttering to each other.

"You better get out, too." Nagato said, looking up at the guards. They obeyed, unable to argue with what was now their leader.

It took him a few minutes to actually acknowledge her. She's not sure if he really knew she was there, because when he finally looked her in the eye, he looked a bit surprised. He seemed to calm down for a moment, and opened his mouth to speak. She couldn't hear what he said. someone dragged her out of the tent before he said anything. She thought it was one of the guards.

"You need to go in there and calm him down, okay?"

She stared at the woman in front of her for a second; slowly realizing it was the nurse.

"What?" She asked, unable to say anything else.

"Go in there, and calm him down. We can't even get close enough to help him."

"Oh."

She was shoved back into the tent a second later, but couldn't seem to move. She was stuck at the entrance, unable to force herself closer to Nagato. He didn't look at her. He just stared at the wall of the tent, eventually acknowledging her presence by waving her closer. Her legs seemed to move without her guidance, and she quickly found herself beside his bed. She reached out to touch his arm, almost expecting it to snap when her fingers brushed his skin.

"Aren't you cold?" She asked, feeling that he was even colder than she was.

"Yes."

"What happened to your shirt? And your cloak?"

"The medics cut them off."

"_Cut_ them off?"

He nodded toward the table, where his shirt and cloak were lying, both with the sleeves removed, along with a large hole in the back.

"They tried to take one of the rods out, too."

She could see that didn't go so well, since all of the rods were still in place.

"Why didn't they?"

"I'd bleed to death."

The thought of that made her stomach hurt. One too many friends had already died that day. She reached up to touch one of the rods, hesitating when Nagato seemed to shrink away from her hand. She didn't dare to push or pull the rods, or even try to rest her hand on them. She put a few of her fingers against one of the smallest rods, and felt it vibrate. She couldn't tell if it was the rod itself, or Nagato. He seemed to sigh with relief when he realized she wasn't trying to alter the rods somehow.

"Do they hurt?"

"Of course they _hurt_!" He snapped.

In hindsight, that was a really stupid question.

She looked closer at the rest of his back. It was covered in scratches and bruises and other little injuries. She started to wish she had actually learned some medical ninjutsu earlier.

"Maybe you should let one of the nurses fix some of these," She suggested.

"No. They already tried that, they just ended up making things worse."

"How could they possibly make things worse?"

"They're clumsy," He said, "They just ended up 'accidentally' nudging the rods."

"Maybe you could get a different nurse to—"

"No."

"Okay."

She backed off, unaccustomed to arguing with Nagato. He reached out to touch her cloak, and finally noticed that she was soaking wet.

"What happened to _your_ clothes?" He asked.

"I was out in the rain."

"You didn't go inside somewhere?"

"No."

"Why not?"

She shrugged, truly at a loss for an answer. She wasn't sure why she hadn't gone inside. Though, that seemed to be a good thing, since she wouldn't have gotten inside to see him if she had gone inside a different tent.

"You should get changed."

"I don't have a change of clothes here... All of them were going to be washed." She mutters.

He paused for a moment, and then extended his hand to an open bag of clothes. She realized he was trying to use his Shinra Tensei to pull something out. The bag almost seemed to explode, and he began to choke, spitting blood on the sheets.

"Nagato, I could've gotten it myself!" She yells, on the verge of tears again.

"I'm fine." He lies, wiping the blood from his lip. "You can use my clothes, they're dry."

She gets up after a few seconds, and drops her old cloak to the floor. Nobody was going to care where she put her things or where she got changed; this was, after all, their tent. She didn't care if he could see her. He had seen it all before. He watched her while she pulled the rest of her clothes off, and took the ruined origami flower out of her hair. He watched her attempt to get reasonably dry with the towel. He watched her attempts fail as her hair seemed to just soak her as soon as she was done. He didn't watch because he wanted to see her naked, or because he was some kind of creepy pervert. He watched because she was there, and that almost seemed unreal after the day's events.

She did manage to stop her hair from dripping after a few minutes. It felt a little more comfortable after she was dry, though she didn't quite feel 'warm' yet. She took his extra cloak and a pair of pants, knowing that it would be pointless to take an entire outfit. His clothes were too big for her, and she had to hold the pants to keep them up. She sat back on his bed, and noticed that he looked a lot calmer now. It was probably because there was nobody telling him what to do, or hurting him, or otherwise irritating him. He pulled his fingers through her hair, which was rather knotted after towel-drying it. She was surprised he was even strong enough to do _that_.

"…What day is today?" He asked her after a few minutes.

"It's Thursday," She told him.

"Still? It hasn't even been a day yet?"

"No…"

* * *

After thinking about that simple question, she remembers that she doesn't have any idea what day it is anymore. She stopped keeping track ages ago.

"What day is today?" She asks Nagato, who is confused by the sudden change in topic.

"It's Monday." He says.

"You've been keeping track?"

"No."

"How did you find out that it's Monday?"

"I didn't."

"…What?"

"If I say it's Monday, it's Monday."

She has no idea what to say to that.

* * *

A/N: So, I'm sure I've made some mistakes here, point them out! Anyway, I don't like this chapter as much as the others, but I'm excited to write the next few!


	5. Friday

A/N: Oh my god, I haven't updated in _how_ long? Gosh, sorry guys, senior year at high school is stressful! Once all the college stuff is out of the way, I think I'll update more. (Hopefully.)

* * *

"What day is today?"

It seems like a strange question for an angel to be asking. So strange, in fact, that the man she asks seems intimidated by it. She has asked a man who is on a small step ladder, fixing up a window that her God had broken during His attack. He's happy to be working in this weather, as it isn't raining at the moment. God has stopped the rain to allow His angel to venture outdoors more easily. He looks to be in his twenties or late teens, making him a child compared to her. The man steps down to the ground, and nervously shifts away from her.

"U-um… It's… Friday," He tells her, still slowly moving away.

"What's the date?"

"Uh… October… Sixteenth… I-I think."

"You _think_?" She asks, worried that it isn't actually the sixteenth, or October at all.

"What's the problem? Don't _you_ know what day it is? Why do you have to ask me?" He screams, backing up against the wall of the building he was working on.

"No," She says sternly. "However, if you aren't going to answer me properly, I'll go ask someone else."

The man watches her turn away and suddenly realizes that he shouldn't have yelled. Not at the city's angel. Such an act could bring God's wrath upon him. He wonders why she hasn't even bothered to try and punish him. He deserves it for showing such disrespect.

"W-wait…" He says, following behind her. "I… I know it's Friday, alright? October sixteenth."

She doesn't thank him. She simply keeps walking, skeptical of the information this man is giving her.

"Why are you asking me, anyway?" He asks, still following. "Is this some sort of… test?"

She stops, wondering why this man would think such a thing. It doesn't seem like a very difficult request. Tests are usually a bit more difficult than what she has asked of him.

"It's not a test," She tells him. "I simply asked you a question."

"Am I going to die…?" He asks, his voice beginning to shake.

The angel finally turns around to look at the man, who is standing uncomfortably close to her. She stares at him, wondering why he is asking such strange questions. She watches as he falls to his knees, and tries to reach out to grab her leg.

"What are you doing?" She snaps, stepping back out of his reach.

"Am I going to die?" He asks again.

"Everyone dies." She tells him, unsure of what else to say.

The man looks confused, but she doesn't understand why. Surely he must've known that nobody lives forever. He crawls toward her, and she backs away. He stops, finally realizing that she doesn't want him coming any closer. And then, he asks her another question.

"How soon will I die?"

"…I don't know."

"You don't? Does our God know?"

She doesn't answer him. Nagato can't predict people's deaths. Not unless He causes them. However, if this man keeps acting strangely, Nagato will certainly be able to arrange that.

"He won't simply hand out that information," She tells him, smoothly avoiding the implications that this god is _not _all-powerful.

"He knew all those other people were going to die, didn't He? He knew exactly who was going to die."

"Of course."

Now, she's not sure if she's really lying to him or not. Nagato killed all those people, but she can't exactly say he _knew_ who was going to die. He didn't have a list of names beforehand. This wasn't like a hit list.

"Why didn't I die? How come nothing hurt me?"

She wonders if this man knows what killed the people of Amegakure. She wonders if he saw anything. She wonders if he has seen one of the many faces of God, but hasn't made the connection. It's entirely possible.

"You were not meant to die," She tells him.

"Our God… wanted the others to die? He didn't try to save them, did He?"

She turns around and walks away again without answering him. She can't say much more. In fact, she's said too much already. She doesn't know why she got dragged into this conversation.

"Why didn't he help us?" The man screams at her, suddenly realizing that this God may not be so kind.

"He allowed to happen what was meant to happen. God has a bigger plan for you, and the rest of the survivors."

"A bigger plan! What the hell did he think we were doing all this time? What about _our_ plans?"

"Your plans are irrelevant to those of a God. Stop your complaining before God decides to smite you."

"I had a family, you know!" He continues, ignoring her warning. "I had a wife! Kids! We were good citizens, and they _died_! You have no idea what it feels like to lose a family, do you?"

He hits a nerve with that last question. She turns around and sees that he's not kidding, accusing her of being ignorant. He realizes that he has really done something wrong as the angel slowly approaches him, and lifts him up by the collar.

"Do _not_ make assumptions about me," She tells him, trying to keep her voice calm.

"H-now could you know anything about that?" He asks her, wondering if he'll be punished for all this. "You're an angel! You must have the best life of anyone in Amegakure, besides our God! You're an _angel_! What could you possibly have gone through?"

"Gods have not always existed. Men create Gods, and Gods create angels."

"So!"

"How long has this God ruled over Amegakure? Have you been told?"

"I-I don't know! Before I was born, a little more than twenty years… Right?"

"Do I look twenty to you?"

The man stares at her and thinks about that simple question, wondering what it could possibly mean. Who cares how old she is? Who cares how long this God has been ruling over Amegakure? What does all this have to do with-?

"…Our God isn't real, is he?" The man asks, finally relaxing under her hand.

"He's very real. Don't ever doubt that."

"But… He's not a God, is he?"

"He is," She tells him.

The man reaches up, grabs her wrist, and pulls her hand off of his collar. She's a little surprised he's brave enough to do that. Nobody has touched her in a long time, especially not to fight back.

"He's not… immortal, is he? He can die."

"No," She says, pulling her hand away from him.

"You're lying."

* * *

"That took longer than usual."

She looks over to see who is talking, though it isn't exactly necessary. She knows who it is. She wonders why Nagato really needs to comment on her outings. She's an adult. She comes and sits with him at his usual spot at the window, where it seems that Asura path is being used.

"Where is Deva?" She asks.

"I'm fixing it. It'll be out in a few minutes. What were you doing?"

"I was… talking to somebody." She says, busy wondering what happened to Yahiko's body. It was damaged? When?

"One of the villagers?"

"Yes."

"What did you talk about?"

She can't remember the last time Nagato was actually interested in her rare conversations with the common villagers. She's right, He _is_ bored.

"He's upset. Along with everyone else."

"They'll get over it."

She wonders if He knows _why_ they're upset. She wonders if He's just ignorant, or if He knows, and is choosing not to care. She has spoken to quite a few people today. All of them seemed to wonder the same thing. Where was their God? Why didn't He help them?

"They're upset… with _you, _Pain. People are mad you didn't protect them." She clarifies.

"They're all fools. Gods aren't meant to protect. They're meant to teach."

"They think your teaching is a little harsh, Pain. They don't realize it's_ you_ who did this. They think you ignored them."

"They'll learn to appreciate it."

'_No they won't!' _She wants to say. She doesn't.

"How can they learn to appreciate it if they don't know what happened?" She snaps instead.

"Why are you upset about this?" Asura asks, glaring at her. "The truth won't make things better for their pathetic _feelings_."

"You're right. It'll make things worse, won't it?" She mutters.

Asura stands up suddenly, and begins to walk away from her. She watches it go, and hears someone else coming. Deva comes into view through the door. She watches Nagato's eyes glare at Asura path as the two bodies pass each other, studying every detail of that other body.

"It will make things worse, Konan, because the people won't trust me anymore." He continues, as if nothing had happened.

She thinks about that while Deva sits by her side, and realizes He's right. If people don't trust Him, how can He rule?

"What if they don't trust you _now_? They think you abandoned them." She says.

"It was your job to fix that. To convince them that I still guard the city."

She nods in agreement, and stares at Yahiko's hands. She watches the water drip down across the cloak, and his face, and his hair. Her mind wanders a bit as she forgets Asura had been there. She gets a little drowsy and she starts to think of childish things before He actually says something.

"You never snap when it's this body."

She's not sure if he's asking her about it, or if it's just a statement.

"The others, you'll snap on. You'll yell. You'll argue with them." He continues.

She doesn't know what to say to that. She's noticed this before, and He's right. She doesn't snap on Deva. She doesn't snap on Yahiko. Not often, anyway. She listens and obeys no matter what He asks of her, even if it's a stupid task. She listens during His rants. She helps Him kill. She protects Him.

"I don't when it's… _you_, either." She points out, her voice sounding smaller than usual.

"No, you don't. Only once or twice." He says thoughtfully. "What's different about the others?"

"Nothing." She lies.

"Then _why_ do you treat them differently?" he asks, looking at her through the corner of his eye. "They're all me. We are all the same person, are we not?"

"Yes."

"Pain is a single entity. We share the experiences, we share a single mind. Yet you seem to think we are different?"

"No."

"You say that now, but you would be arguing if it was another one of the bodies saying this, wouldn't you?"

"Of course not!" She says, trying to end this conversation. She hates arguing with Deva. She hates arguing with Nagato.

Deva stands up, and leaves her alone. She walks to her room, wondering if He's mad at her. She wonders if everything will be okay tomorrow. Tomorrow is Saturday. Today is Friday. Today is Friday, October sixteenth. She peels a strip of paper off her cloak, and writes that down.

* * *

A/N: I'm having a little trouble writing lately with school and Nagato and Konan being gone and all. Spoiler alert, I think Konan's dead now.


	6. Mortal

A/N: I swear I'm not dead, guys. Seriously. The last Konan chapters of Naruto have given me millions of angsty plot bunnies. I'll probably be working on some one-shots soon. You know, especially since my OTP just got crushed and all. Ow.

…I'm still making this NagatoxKonan. I don't care if it's not canon, I'm too far into this to change it.

* * *

It's Saturday, she thinks. Unless she's slept through an entire day. When she opens her eyes, Pain is there. He stands near the doorway, staring at her.

"How long have you been there…?" She asks, pulling the sheets up to her face.

He doesn't answer her question. Considering he isn't pulling her out of bed, she assumes it's only been a few seconds. He nods His head toward the door, silently telling her to follow. She forces herself out of bed and throws her cloak on, following Pain's brisk footsteps. She looks at His cloak and then notices something on the sleeve.

"Are you… bleeding?" She asks, too tired to know what that really means.

"Am I?" He asks, continuing to walk.

She walks a bit faster to catch up to Him, and pulls the sleeve up. His arm has a long cut across the top.

"What happened?" She asks, too shocked to be sleepy.

Finally, Pain looks down at His arm. Unsure of where such an injury has come from, he slides the long, spear-like chakra rods out of His sleeve and sees that one of them is covered in His blood. That was one of the disadvantages of having these bodies. Injuries like this could go unnoticed for quite a while. Nagato wouldn't feel a thing if Pain was hurt.

"One of the rods must've slipped." He tells her. "That's not important right now."

Konan looks up at His face, wondering exactly what _is_ important right now. He walks down the tower's stairs until He reaches a window facing toward the north.

"Over there." He says, pointing off toward the streets.

"What is it?" She asks.

"There's a villager out there. They haven't moved since last night."

"Are they alive?"

"I wouldn't notice their existence if they weren't." He says, stopping the downpour.

She doesn't move yet. She's still not really _dressed_. Her hair is still down, and she doesn't have any shoes. However, getting ready first doesn't really seem to be an option. He's staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to go outside and see what this villager is up to. She almost asks Him to do it Himself, but realizes that's a bad idea. She steps outside, and walks toward one of the rows of pipes lining a nearby building. She can hear someone muttering to themselves. She makes herself a pair of wings, and floats over to investigate.

It's the man from yesterday.

Somehow, he looks happy to see her. He stammers something about 'Amegakure's Angel' and smiles.

"What are you doing?" She demands.

"Angel!" He greets her. "You made me realize something yesterday."

He obviously wants her to ask about his realization, but she doesn't.

"See, I realized that this 'God' is fake, right?"

"He is _not_ a fake." She hisses.

"So, he must be mortal, too. He can die. I'm going to prove that Amegakure's 'God' can bleed! I'm going to avenge everyone that he has killed!"

Before the man can elaborate on his ridiculous plan, Konan gathers more paper to make a spear. She shoves it into his soft, unprotected stomach, twisting and shaking it to make it more painful.

"God is less mortal than any man you will ever know."

He tries to ask her what she means, but the blood bubbling up in his lungs dissolves his question into a sick gurgling sound. He chokes more blood into a deep red puddle underneath him, and watches her drift away.

She goes back inside and tells Pain about the man, leaving out a few important details.

"He's still alive," Pain asks her, sensing it with His rain.

"For now."

He leaves. She wonders if she's supposed to clean up the mess, or leave it there. She chooses the second one, and follows Pain back upstairs. He doesn't seem to notice that she's following Him at first. When He does notice, He wonders what's wrong.

"Why are you following me?" Pain asks.

"Your arm. You need to fix it before it gets infected."

Pain looks at His arm, though 'infection' doesn't seem to register in His mind.

"It'll be fine." He tells her, still staring at the wound.

"Let me at least—"

"It's unnecessary."

He leaves her on the stairs, and continues walking. She doesn't know why He can't just give her a second to fix him up.

"Where are you going, Pain?" She asks.

"Putting Deva away."

Somehow, she's happy about that. If Deva is put away, she can bandage His arm without Nagato seeing her. She follows Him until He gets to the wall that holds the bodies that are not in use. She lets Him enter first, and goes off to get some water and bandages. Then she goes in herself. Deva has been shut down, just like all the other bodies. There's a small pool of blood next to Deva's table, about the size of the flower in her hair. Another drop of blood adds to the puddle every few seconds. His heart rate has slowed, and so has the bleeding.

She comes closer, taking slow, silent steps as if she's afraid of waking them up. She knows it's unnecessary, but it's a habit that won't be broken anytime soon. Sitting on the foot of the table, she pulls his injured arm up, and sees that He has bled on the table, too. She knows it must've soaked into the cloak a bit, and maybe His pants. She'll wash them later.

She pulls His sleeve up to His shoulder, and washes the red stain off of His skin. Once it's gone, she can see that most of the cut has scabbed over. Not all of it, though. She knows it's not too deep, but she still wants to fix it up. Just in case. These bodies aren't as sturdy when faced with infections or other health issues. She starts the bandage at the wrist, and moves up to cover the wound. However, she stops in the middle of her bandaging. She feels like she's being watched.

"If you really want it fixed so badly, I'll do it myself."

She turns to see another one of Nagato's bodies standing behind her. It's the Human path.

"What are you doing with that one?" She asks.

"You told me that the man is still alive. I am going to kill him now. I will fix Deva when I'm done."

"You can just let it heal naturally," she says. "It's not deep. It'll be fine in a day or two. Don't waste your chakra on this."

"If it's so small, it won't take much chakra to fix."

"Just let it heal by itself. It'll be gone soon." She insists.

She has won rather easily this time, to her surprise. The Human path leaves to finish off the man in the street, and she continues wrapping up Deva's hand. It's not until she's almost done that she notices Deva's eyes. He's staring at her, watching her hands work His arm into a bandage. She can't tell if He's paying attention or not. His eyes look glazed over as if he's lost in thought.

"I thought you told me that man was alive." Deva says.

"He is." She says, clipping the end of the bandage.

"He's dead now."

"Oh."

She finishes bandaging His arm, and rests her hand on top of His. He doesn't seem to notice at first, but when He does, He pulls away.

"Your clothes are bloody, Pain. They need to be cleaned." She tells Him, trying to prevent any awkward conversations.

He looks down at the red stain on the sleeve of the Akatsuki cloak. He stands and removes the cloak, and then his pants, noticing that they are also stained red. She takes the clothes from Him, and He leaves Deva standing, away from the blood. She tells Him that she'll leave the clothes on Pain's stone bed when they're clean, but Deva has lost His mind before He hears her.

She doesn't leave yet. She stares at Yahiko's body, and the metal pieces that have been embedded in its skin. She looks at his face, almost mesmerized by how similar Pain's expression is to Yahiko's when His face is relaxed. Parents tell their children not to make silly faces, because their face will get stuck in that expression forever. It always relaxes when you're asleep.

She flinches when the wall opens to allow Human path back into the room. She hurries out and pretends she wasn't just idly standing in one spot.

While she washes the clothes, she wonders why Nagato still chooses to use the Akatsuki's uniform. Sure, He had been the 'leader' of the group, but Akatsuki seemed to be far gone by now. Most of the members were dead. Was He simply not seeing them as Akatsuki uniforms anymore? Was He just seeing them as 'clothes' now? She supposed it would be difficult to get new clothes for all of His bodies. She thinks she could do it if she had to, but she knows He won't wear them, anyway.

So, she brings Deva His clean clothes. She finds Him sitting in the window, staring down at the street yet again. He has taken another body's clothes, and they're a bit too big for Deva's lean figure. His usual cloak is, too, but this makes Him look bulky instead of elongated.

"Your clothes are done, Pain," she tells Him.

"Humans kill Gods," He says. It's not a reply to her question, but something He wants to discuss with her. She doesn't know what He wants her to say. She sits beside Him, and sets His clothes on the ground. She waits for Him to say something she can respond to. After a few more moments of silence, she looks down into the street. There is a small group of people on the ground, carrying a body. It's the dead man.

"They can't kill you," she says, unable to deal with the silence after His statement.

"They can't kill me." He confirms. "Gods who are killed are foolish. Gods are killed when people stop bending to their will. Using power for kindness will get you nowhere. They can't kill me. I can die, but it won't be by their hand."

"Gods who die aren't real," she says.

"Gods who aren't real have already died."

She is once again speechless, unable to read His mind and respond the way He wants her to.

"Gods who die make the same mistake, though, Konan."

"What is it?" She asks.

"Gods only have once chance at life. When they die, there is no one to take their place. I will make sure that if I die, there is another waiting. I need an heir."

She's still staring down at the street, but feels His eyes burning a hole in her flesh after a few seconds. She looks up at Him to find that He's waiting for something. She doesn't know what. Was she supposed to find an heir for Him? Nagato was too powerful for anyone to take His place. There is nobody who could match His skill. She thinks harder, afraid of disappointing Him, and then…

"Oh."

That's all she can say. She involuntarily flinches when she answers, and He notices.

"It doesn't need to be you," He says. He doesn't mean it as an insult, but she takes it as one.

"I'm capable of doing it," she tells Him.

Deva gets up, and begins to leave.

"Get ready, Konan. I'll be here in an hour."

* * *

A/N: Next chapter is a lemon. Just warning you.


	7. Human Urges

A/N: So, this happens to be the lemon I have as a seperate story, but edited slightly. However, it was originally written for this purpose, so I promise you I'm not just being lazy.

* * *

"_Get ready." _He had told her.

It's sex. What is there to prepare? How does One 'get ready' for something like this? Does He have something specific in mind? She doesn't understand. That is unusual, but not worrisome. The questions are irrelevant, she decides. Whatever it is, it can't be all that difficult. For now, all she knows was that she has to be in her room. She has to wait for Him.

With that, she turns and slowly begins to walk down the hallway. Time seems to be slower than usual. Her mind is racing as she starts to consider all of the little details of this request. She knows this isn't about her. This isn't about Him. This is about the world, and they are simply doing what must be done. He is God, and she happens to be the closest child-bearing female in the vicinity. In fact, she's close to being barren. This is happening just in time. He wants an heir, because even Gods die. This isn't because He loves her, but her willingness to comply is certainly a testament of how much she cares for Him. Perhaps it is foolish, but she hopes that this will make Him happy, even in the smallest way.

Pleasure seems to be one of the unavoidable side effects of (successful) sex, especially for men. He is not free from that. Will that bring Him happiness, or will it upset Him that such a mortal pleasure can still overcome His body? Will such intimacy bring them closer, or will it force Him further away from her? Will He shut down? Will this kill Him, like He had talked about earlier?

Those are but a few of the many questions flooding her head as her hands grip the cold doorknob. When the door creeks open, her eyes sweep the familiar room, looking to see if He has arrived first. It is only a few seconds before she knows that she is alone, and still has a few precious moments left to herself. She spends those moments 'preparing' like He has told her. The flower she carries is placed on the nightstand, and her hair falls out of its usual bun, leaving it hanging in a wavy mess. She runs a brush through it once or twice, until it looks presentable. It's only after she puts the brush down that she realizes that her hair is just going to be ruined within the next hour. She doubts He cares about her hair now, anyway.

The one thing she can't bring herself to do is remove the cloak. The room is cold, and the cloak is thin, but warm. The building is always cold. Not in such a way that requires coats or sweaters, but just cold enough to need something with sleeves. The sun never reaches the building she and her God reside in, because the gray storm clouds always cover the sky. The rooms are concrete, and there is nothing that can be considered 'insulating'. She thinks about her childhood. She thinks about the house that Jiraiya had found for them, and how it always seemed to be warm, even on the coldest of nights. Perhaps it was never warm, she thinks. Perhaps she's idealizing the past.

The memories of her childhood fade rather abruptly as she listens to the sound of footsteps in the hallway. They are slow, and heavy. She knows who's coming to her door, but doesn't move to open it. The last seconds she has to herself go by slowly, and she tries to collect her thoughts. When the door finally opens, she expects to feel like a target. She expects Him to look determined, and she expects Him to be quick about starting. None of those things happen. She feels invisible when He comes through the door. He looks in her direction, but His eyes are so unfocused that it feels like He's looking right through her. He stands in the doorway for what feels like hours, until she finally says something.

"You're tired," She tells him, unsure of whether He can even recognize his own weariness anymore.

"Yes," He replies, much to her surprise.

"We can do this tomorrow."

As soon as those words pass her lips, His eyes focus, and meet hers. He looks at her to see if she means that, and she does. If He is tired, she can wait. She _wants _to wait. He had told her to prepare, and He had meant both physically _and _mentally. She has done neither of those things, and needs more time. He knows that He hasn't given her much of a warning.

"If you don't want to, I can find someone else," He reminds her.

His voice is soft, and calm. He doesn't mean it as a threat or an insult, simply a fact. Yet, even suggesting such an idea hurts her, and then she begins to wonder what other woman in their right mind would say yes to this request. Yes, Nagato was God. Yes, He was powerful. That doesn't mean anyone likes it. Any other woman would refuse, unless He forced it upon them.

For a second, she wonders if she's just telling herself that.

She pushes the thought out of her mind, realizing that she shouldn't be thinking of such things, anyway. She has accepted His request, and she is not about to defy God, even if He does give her that choice. However, Nagato has taken her thoughtful silence the wrong way, and begins to leave.

"Wait," She says, taking a step toward Him. "I'll still do it."

He is pleased to hear this, knowing that finding another woman would be troublesome, though not difficult. He turns to face her again, and decides that it is time to begin. Walking toward her is slow and painful, just like every other movement. His legs can't support what little weight He carries, and His chakra is the only thing that keeps Him walking. The thin fabric of His pants feel like fire as it brushes against His skin, as if the flames from the paper bombs on that horrific day have never gone out. She sees His pain, and it hurts her, too. She wonders how sex is even going to be possible if something as simple as walking is a chore.

"Nagato, please," She begs, grabbing his arms. "Don't hurt yourself."

She has said that so many times, and the message never seems to reach Him. Today is no different, and He refuses to lean on her for support. He comes closer, until His face is inches from hers. He can smell her perfume, and whatever she has been using to wash her hair. He's the reason she smells so nice. He's the reason she dresses the way she does. He's the reason she stays with Akatsuki. He is her purpose in life, and that will never change. Having Him so close makes her happier than she'd like to admit. Perhaps she has thought too hard about His request. Perhaps it isn't quite as intimidating as it sounds.

His hands are cold when He gets them inside her cloak, and the studs on His arms are even colder. She shivers, but she's not sure if it's the temperature, or the fact that He's touching her. Probably both. He pushes the Akatsuki uniform off of her shoulders, and lets it fall to her feet. It's been a while since He's seen her without the cloak. He's seen it through Deva's eyes, but not His own. It is different when He is actually there. In the back of His mind, He has always wondered why she chooses to wear that outfit. He never asks, because it's never important. The question on His mind seems obvious to her, though. She can see that He's staring at her shirt, or what's under it.

"Nagato…"

The sound of His name –His real name– brings Him back to reality, and He remembers the task at hand. This isn't the time for trivial questions. (It never will be.) He's wasted a few precious minutes already, and He is tired. If He hopes to sleep at all, this needs to be over quickly. The bed seems like the easiest and most natural place, but He has to walk to it. She follows just behind Him, making sure He won't fall, or otherwise hurt Himself. He stops when He reaches the edge, and turns to her.

"Sit down," He says.

She obeys, but gets up no more than a second later.

"It'll be easier if _you_ sit," She tells Him. "I can-"

"No," He interrupts. He wants this to be done His way, because He believes it to be the quickest and easiest. He wants control of the situation. She doesn't press the issue, and sits like He has told her to. He puts his hand on her chest, and presses her down onto the bed. He pauses for a minute, thinking about how to continue. He hasn't given this much thought, and it is easier said than done. He remembers things like this coming so easily (She does, too.), but that was before He had become a God. One would think that becoming a God would make things easier, but this is an exception to that rule. If this is going to work, He will have to act on human urges.

"Are you okay?" She asks, seeing His blank expression.

"Yes," He says, reaching for her shirt. She's not expecting to be undressed so quickly, but she's not complaining, either. He knows how to unbutton the shirt, because He has seen her do it a thousand times. There is one button behind her neck, and two more toward the bottom, where the shirt comes together near her lower back. He pushes himself up onto the bed, and she backs away to give Him room to kneel between her legs. She lets Him come closer, and unbutton the top of her shirt, and finishes the other two buttons herself. The room feels even colder when her shirt is gone (especially since she never wears anything under it.), and she wonders how Nagato can stand to be like this all the time. Of course, it's not as if He has a choice.

Before she can dwell on that, she is forced down again, and He's pulling at what's left of her clothes. She wants to tell Him to slow down, but she doesn't. This isn't about _her_ or what _she_ wants. She arches her back, and helps Him, instead. He gets off the bed to remove them completely, and then stops to examine her for a moment. She's exactly how He remembers her. Nothing has changed except for the look on her face. She looks nervous, which He finds strange. They've done this before. What was the problem?

She knows she's being stared at, and finds it unnerving. His eyes are always so judgmental of the world, and she feels as though they are being judgmental of _her_. However, He doesn't care about her imperfections or shortcomings at the moment. She is capable of doing what He has asked of her, and that is the only thing that matters.

He pulls His eyes away from her to remove his own pants, which seems much more difficult than it should. The studs on His legs catch on the fabric, making it almost impossible to remove the simple piece of clothing. She sits up to help Him, despite being told not to. He attempts to push her away, but she easily pushes though His feeble attempts. He stops once her hands reach the waistband, because He figures it's not worth fighting.

She kneels to separate the fabric from the chakra rods, and pushes the pants across the floor when they are finally off. The last piece of clothing seems slightly less troublesome to remove, and she pushes them away, too. Having her on her knees in front of Him like this seems to remind Him of something, and He quickly pulls her up before He can recall the memory. He leads her back up by her chin, and their faces are mere inches away from each other. If only for a moment, she expects a kiss from her God, but then remembers where she is, and who He has become. A kiss seems out of the question, along with almost any form of foreplay.

He moves her back down on bed, and hovers over her, intending to begin immediately. He stops when He feels her hands sliding down His chest, because He thinks that there's something wrong. There isn't any real problem, and she is just remembering how powerful He used to look. She watches His face as her fingers curl around him. He doesn't seem to acknowledge what she's doing. She intends to change that. This isn't for pleasure, but that doesn't mean that it can't be included. He could probably use something enjoyable, even if He is going to pretend to ignore it.

Ignoring it proves to be difficult. Too difficult. His breathing becomes heavier, and she watches in satisfaction as His face begins to express His pleasure. She remembers _exactly_ how He likes to be touched, even if He doesn't. To Him, this seems like a reminder of what life used to be. He remembers the last time she touched Him like this, and it wasn't recently. He has all but forgotten their previous experiences, locking it away in the back of His mind. It wasn't important. Those memories can only lead to more painful ones.

He pushes her hands away, though His body seems to ache in protest. Now, nothing is preventing Him from continuing. His entrance seems abrupt, even though she is expecting it. It's painful. He has had plenty of stimulation, while she has had almost none. She isn't ready (not that it matters.). Hiding the pain is almost too easy. She has felt worse. The first time was worse. The first time had felt unreal.

The first time they'd done this, physical pain wasn't a regular thing for her. Nagato and Yahiko would protect her from it as often as possible. She found it ironic that Nagato was causing such a horrible pain, and yet she didn't ask him to stop. Tears had fallen down her face for a brief moment against her will, and He apologized, but didn't stop. She told Him to go faster, even though it hurt. He had finished first, and she never quite made it. He seemed to feel guilty when they were done. He apologized multiple times, even though he was forgiven within seconds of his first apology.

Yahiko wouldn't look her in the eye for the next few days, and he had a very heated discussion with Nagato about their actions. In retrospect, it probably wasn't the brightest idea to be doing such things with their dearest friend and leader in the next room.

That didn't stop it from happening again. They learned to time it properly, and Yahiko rarely had to experience such nights again. (When he did, there were consequences.) They quickly discovered what felt good, and what didn't. There were nights that went by in an instant, and there were nights that would last forever. There were nights that went by in silence, and nights where all of Amegakure could've heard them. There were nights where they would need each other more than anything else in the world, and there were nights where the two of them just wanted to go to sleep. There were good nights, there were great nights, and then there were the nights where He would make her feel like an angel.

Those nights were always dreamlike. In the morning, she would feel as if it had been too good to be real. The only thing left to convince her otherwise was Him, because He would always be there when she woke up. On those nights, nothing else seemed to matter. On those nights, her heart would race while He told her anything and everything that she wanted to hear (He always meant every word of it.). He would kiss her in places that nobody else could, and touch her in ways that seemed impossible. On those nights, His name would be the only thing she said (Or screamed, whispered, sighed, and begged for.) He never asked her to return the favor, but she did anyway. She always did.

She remembers it all so clearly, because she swore to herself (and Him) that she'd never forget. The memories alone are arousing, despite her knowing that it will never happen again. Of course, what's happening to her at the moment hardly seems to be reinforcing that knowledge. His pace is insufferably slow, and 'gentle' can't even begin to describe how it feels. The pain is gone, but pleasure seems to be out of her reach. She isn't the only one who feels this way. He seems to be frustrated with the pace, too. He could go faster if it wouldn't hurt so much. For a few moments, she thinks about how much easier this would be if He had just let her take control. She toys with the idea of pushing Him over, but remembers that He can't be on his back. She decides to wait, instead. Maybe He'll figure out that she was right.

It's a silly thought. He never does. It never occurs to Him that He is making this a lot harder than it has to be. He adjusts Himself more than once, but never seems to find an easier way. His skin is on fire, the sweat has plastered His hair to His face and neck, and His heart feels like it's about to explode. This certainly isn't going as quickly as He had planned. She tries to help in any way she can without taking control of the situation. She pushes the hair out of His face, and positions herself in the best way possible, but it hardly seems to help.

After an multitude of ineffective attempts, He stops. She watches Him sit back on his legs, and wonders what He's planning. After a few minutes of silence, it becomes apparent that He is running out of ideas. He has been tired from the start, and this isn't helping. She can't tell if He's breathing so hard from the exhaustion or the desire. She finally decides to sit up, and try her own method. She doesn't ask, because if He really wants to stop her, He will.

He doesn't protest when she climbs up on His lap. She assumes that she has His permission, and proceeds. It takes a minute for her to get comfortable, but things get easy from there. _He_ might not have been able to move at a satisfactory pace, but she finds it simple. It's still somewhat painful for Him, but not enough to stop. The benefits seem to outweigh any reason to do so (that always seems to be the case.).

She's happy, knowing she has been right all along. He'll never admit that He was wrong (and maybe He still thinks He was right), but that doesn't make a difference to her. She has gotten her way with things (for once), and it works perfectly. His nails come close to breaking the skin on her arms as He finishes, and only a whisper of profanities make it through His lips. She stops when He tells her to. She isn't ready for it to end, but restrains herself from going any further. At this point, it is probably best to let Him sleep.

She slides off of His lap, and sits in silence. She expects Him to leave now that they are finished, because there's no reason for Him to stay. He never makes it off the bed. When He tries to push himself up, He falls forward. She leans away from Him, and braces herself. It doesn't hurt like she expects it to. Even with the rods in His back, He barely weighs anything. He tries again to leave, but only makes it a few inches toward the edge before He falls. Focusing His chakra is almost impossible now, and without that, it is unlikely that He will make it all the way back to His own room. The comfort of a bed isn't helping to motivate Him.

"You can stay…" She tells Him, feeling foolish the moment she suggests it.

He doesn't need her permission, but the idea wouldn't have crossed His mind if she didn't mention it. He looks up at her through His hair, trying to decide if it could cause any real issues. On any other night, He would see plenty of problems with this idea. Tonight is an exception. Tonight, He has acted on _human _urges, and exhausted Himself more than usual. Tonight, better judgment has been abandoned, and hasn't returned. Tonight, He accepts.

He doesn't say anything to her. He merely drags himself up to the head of the bed, and goes to sleep. She doesn't follow immediately. It's _still_ cold in the room. She gets her cloak from the floor, and lays it over Him before finally crawling under the sheets herself. He looks a lot like He used to, with His hair covering His face. She recalls the last time He actually stayed with her for the night. It was years ago. Not since Pain had been brought to life.

She knows that tonight is different. She knows that it probably won't happen again. So, she takes advantage of the moment. She slides her hand under His, and pretends –just for tonight– that they can travel back in time. She doesn't care if she's idealizing the past. Tonight, she imagines that He loves her.


	8. Immune

A/N: I'm nearing the end of this fic! Wow, this'll be the first non-one-shot I've actually finished… That's kind of shocking.

* * *

She doesn't want to wake up. She refuses to open her eyes, but that doesn't stop her from feeling the emptiness on the opposite side of the bed. There is no God there, anymore. Then, she thinks that there never was. There was a mortal being there last night. He has left, now, in every sense of the word. The only thing that remains of him is his scent on her cloak, which He has left on her bed. It's not a very pleasant smell, but behind the smell of sex, it's His. She pulls it closer, and pushes her face into it.

She stays like that for a while, before feeling another presence in her room. While there is no living creature in her bed, there a God by her window. Deva. He doesn't speak until she pushes herself upright.

"You're awake," He says, though it's more of a question.

"What time were you up?" She shoots back, annoyed that He's getting up so early every day. She is afraid He's not getting enough rest.

"I don't know," He replies, though she thinks He does. "It's not important, Konan. How do you feel?"

"Fine."

It's true, but only physically.

"Come here."

She shifts uncomfortably, not wanting to remove the covers of the bed. She is quite comfortable, but knows that her God's wishes come before hers. She puts her feet on the cold concrete floor, keeping the sheets across her stomach. She doesn't get up. Deva is standing a few inches away from her before she has to. She watches His hands blur into seals, and His left hand begins to glow a strange maroon color.

"Move the sheets."

She does. His hand feels warm against her stomach. She wonders if it's the chakra or Him.

"What's that for?" She asks, putting a hand over her mouth to fight back a yawn.

"I'm killing off some of your immune system."

"What?" She asks, grabbing his wrist. Her hand that's hovering over her mouth almost gives her a comical appearance. "Why?"

"A human body naturally fights off intruders. That includes sperm. Your age is already going to complicate things. I don't want your immune system narrowing our already slim chances."

She doesn't like that he's addressing her age in such a way, but soon that leaves her mind. She's distracted by his later statement. She gets some sort of strange pleasure from Nagato using the word 'our'. She likes that He acknowledges their required partnership in this.

"Isn't there a better way to do this?" She asks, though she wouldn't make Him use it, anyway.

"No. You'll get sick more easily, and it'll be much worse than usual. Don't expose yourself to anything. You'll be back to your normal resistance in a week or so."

"Alright."

She's not happy about it, but she won't do anything to stop Him. After he's finished, he stands and stares at her expectantly.

"…Did you eat yet?" She asks, realizing that Nagato rarely cooks for himself.

"No."

She stands and throws her cloak on. It's still warm. She doesn't know if that's from her body being pressed against it, or Nagato sleeping under it. She prefers the latter. She moves downstairs to prepare a meal, and Deva follows a few feet behind her like a hungry child.

She makes the food in a trance. She always does. She's thinking about Deva's warning about getting sick. It's almost hard to imagine that she can contract any kind of illness. She hasn't been sick in a long time. She hasn't been _really_ sick since she was in her late teens. Actually, perhaps she was in her twenties. She doesn't remember much from during the illness. She can't even say the few things that stuck to her memory are real. They're too hazy. She does remember others' illnesses very clearly, mostly because she'd worry a lot. She'd even worry about people _getting_ sick, if they weren't already. Her mind wanders further and further away from cooking, and she remembers that she always had to bother Nagato about his health. It's not as recent as she feels it is.

* * *

War always made it hard to sleep at night. Tents didn't seem like the most secure form of shelter, and the rain made it hard to hear anything else outside. It was frightening, because the enemy could be just outside, and nobody would hear them coming. There were allies outside, watching for any sign of an attack. That never helped to calm her. They were only human, and you can only rely on people so much.

She remembers stepping outside with her umbrella one night, trying not to wake Yahiko up. Nagato was outside, leaning against the tent, using his folded cloak as a seat. It was his turn to make sure nobody would be attacked without warning, and he was one of the few people who she actually trusted with that task. It had been raining so hard that night, and he seemed oblivious to that fact. He glanced up at her when she sat down with him, but didn't greet her.

"It's raining." She told him. "You're soaking wet.

"It's not so bad." He replied.

"You'll get sick."

"Really, I'm fine…"

She scooted closer to Him, and tried to fit Him under the umbrella. That stopped the rain from hitting Him in the face, but it still dripped down the side of the tent, and continued to soak His clothes and hair. She decided it wasn't worth trying to fix that. If he didn't mind, she wouldn't push it.

She pulled her legs up to her chest, because she didn't like having her bare skin touching the mud. Her skirt could be washed, and this was one of the rare times she was able to sit however she wanted. Yahiko always told her how to sit, because he didn't like the way some of the male members of their group would look at her when she sat differently. Nagato never told her how to sit, and He never stared at her chest, or her skirt (Not that she noticed, anyway.).

"Did the thunder wake you up?" He asked.

"No."

That was a lie, and He knew it. He didn't call her out on it, though. It didn't matter. She was awake, and that couldn't be changed. Instead, He just sat with her, and wondered why she would choose to come and sit in the rain, when there was a much warmer, dryer tent available. He didn't ask, because he didn't want to make her feel unwelcome. He liked having her there.

He looked over at her when she began to stare at the shirt he was wearing. She touched it, and glared at him when she discovered that it had been soaked through. He didn't say anything in his defense. He just sat there, as if to ask what she wanted to do about it. To answer His question, she got up without another word, and went back inside. Nagato had thought that she had left, but she came out a few moments later, carrying a dry cloak.

"You can't just _sit here_without something dry." She muttered. "It's not that warm out tonight."

He nodded, but didn't take it seriously. It wasn't _cold_, and a little rain never hurt anybody. However, she wasn't about to let him get away without listening. She shoved the cloak into his lap, and waited for him to put it on. When she was finally satisfied with his outfit, they talked. They talked about nothing in particular. They talked about Yahiko and the other people with them. They talked about what was going to happen after the war (though their answers to that question weren't entirely truthful.) They talked about what was going to happen tomorrow. They talked about everything they could think of, and then fell silent.

She watched him scratch at the ground with kunai, and wrap his headband around his hand. She stared at the horizon, and listened to the rain. She lost herself in thought, and grew tired. The storm had died down into a drizzle, and the thunder had stopped. Whatever had been keeping her awake earlier wasn't there anymore.

"You should sleep." He told her.

"No… It's my turn to sit out here, anyway, isn't it?" She asked, knowing that they worked in shifts.

"I could stay, instead."

"No."

He didn't argue, but still watched her futile attempts to stay alert. Yahiko was probably going to be mad if she was tired this afternoon. You can't afford to be tired during a war.

"Lean back against the tent, at least. You'll fall over if you stay like that."

"It's wet." She reminded Him.

He considered telling her that her skirt was wet, and that it was raining outside, but He didn't. He just kept an eye on her, wondering how long she could last.

"You're going to be tired later." He tells her.

"Aren't _you_ tired?"

"No."

She wondered how he could stay awake for so long, and not feel tired. Maybe it was a lie. She couldn't tell when he was lying back then. She stared into his eyes to see if she could figure that out, but the endless rings that looped around his pupils were hypnotizing. Eventually she only kept staring because she didn't have the power to look away. He broke eye contact to look back at the ground, and she watched the clouds drift by. She started to nod off after that, and he held his hand out in case she started to fall.

Eventually, she did. He grabbed her before she hit the ground, and she found herself resting on his shoulder a moment later. She sighed in defeat, too tired to sit back up. He wasn't telling her to get off (he never did.), and she was comfortable, despite the fact that his clothes were damp. She considered his offer for a moment. She could go back inside and sleep and he would stay here. She thought about the tent, and her sleeping bag, and how nice it would be to stay out of the rain.

She didn't move. Maybe it was because she was too tired, or because she would feel guilty, or maybe it was because she just wanted to stay with him. For some reason, she kept her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes. She felt Nagato shift, and felt his arm drape across her shoulder. It moved away a second later, much to her disappointment. They both knew what such a position would imply, even if it wasn't meant to (or maybe it was.).

She felt that this had suddenly become very awkward.

"It's cold tonight," she muttered, attempting to remedy the problem. Her statement only seemed to make it worse in her mind.

"I don't think going inside is going to help you at this point," Nagato told her. It was true. It would probably only soak the inside of the tent, and wake Yahiko up.

Perhaps her own temperature affected Nagato, because he pulled his legs up to his chest soon after. She felt him shiver.

"Are you cold, now?" She asked.

"Only a bit. I'm fine," He told her.

She felt him shiver again, and saw him breathe on his shaking hands, but believed his lie anyway.

She feels stupid for that, now. Guilty, actually.

* * *

A/N: Hmm… I think I was planning on making this longer, but I didn't. Oh, well.


	9. Haphephobia

A/N: One more chapter after this, I believe. Sorry for the slow updates, I was getting settled into college. Now that I'm all set up, I'll probably update more, and start a few more stories that I will *hopefully* finish like I will this one and the other few that aren't done yet. I will finish all of them if it kills me, dammit! So, that means… I have 5 stories to finish?

* * *

"If you're going to be a God, what'll that make me?"

That was what she asked him a long time ago, while fiddling with a piece of paper. She meant it as a joke, because she was starting to get a sneaking suspicion that he was serious about becoming a God. She joked with him like that a lot, hoping he'd realize how ridiculous he was being. She told herself it was a phase, since it had only been a few days since Yahiko's death.

He thought about it for a few minutes after she asked. She didn't actually know if he had heard her, because he didn't even move when she asked. Eventually, he looked up at the top of the tent and gave her an answer.

"I guess that'd make you an angel."

She smiled and flattened the paper out.

"What makes you say that?" She asked.

"Angels are messengers, aren't they? And protectors. They guide people."

"Gods do that, too," she said.

"As if I could do all that by myself."

She paused for a minute, a bit confused by the statement.

"You've done all that," she pointed out, beginning to fold the paper again.

"It's different."

Finally, he had gotten tired of holding his head up. Being unable lay down on his back, they had put a large stack of pillows in front of him to lean on. As he began to put his head down, she heard him wince. She looked over to see him trying to untangle a knot in his hair that happened to be wrapped around one of the rods. She reached over and pulled it apart herself.

"I think we should get someone to cut your hair, Nagato. It's going to keep getting caught like that."

"I'd rather leave it than have one of them try to cut it."

"The longer it gets, the more it'll snag."

He thought about that, but he wasn't sure what was worse. At least he could stop the pain immediately if it was just his hair. An outside force couldn't be stopped so quickly.

"I don't want anyone else touching me," he finally said.

"Will you let me do it, then? I'll be careful."

He doubted she'd be as rough as the medics. They did their job, but seemed to value their time more than comfort. That didn't mean she wasn't going to hurt him at some point, if only by accident.

"You'll stop if I ask you to, right?"

"Of course."

He reluctantly agreed, and hoped he wouldn't regret it. She got up, putting the paper down on the arm of the chair. It fluttered to the floor as she got up, though he was the only one who noticed. He watched her dig through some of their bags in the back of the tent to find something to cut with. She only found a kunai.

"Where are you going?" He asked her when she left the tent.

"I don't think I want to cut your hair with a kunai unless I have to. I just think it might be harder. I don't want to slip."

Thankful for her consideration, he waited patiently for her to come back. She had cut his hair with a kunai before, but that was quite a while ago. Scissors took a lot less work.

She came back with a rather small pair, with a blunt tip. He seemed a bit confused about why she had chosen such a pair, but didn't ask. She came and sat next to him on the bed, and realized that she couldn't sit behind him and do it as it was usually done.

"This might look horrible when I'm done," She said.

"So?"

It really didn't matter, and she knew that. She thought maybe he cared, but was relieved when he didn't. She thought she should've known that already, but better to tell him then surprise him.

She pulled the chair she had been sitting in right up against the bed, climbing into the seat. Standing on her knees, she rose above him, giving her a much better view. She ran her hand through his hair, and snagged it immediately. She flinched at pulled her hand away, afraid that she had hurt him.

"What?" He asked when he noticed that she had stopped.

"You didn't feel that?"

He almost smiled. Almost.

"You really thought_ that_ would've hurt?"

"I don't know."

She started to do it again, with the same result. She stopped trying to straighten it out, and instead turned her attention to cutting it. Perhaps cutting it would remove some of the knots she kept snagging.

"How short should I cut it?" She asked him.

He said he didn't care. Selfishly, she decided she'd only cut it short enough to avoid clinging to the rods. Perhaps she would've cut it shorter if he hadn't looked so different. His hair seemed to be the only thing that looked the same, and she didn't want to lose that.

She went slowly, cutting a just a few inches across every time. She'd stop for a few seconds, and then work on the next few inches. The silence became uncomfortable.

"Can I ask you something?" She asked.

"Hm?"

"All that stuff you mentioned before, about the angels. You said you couldn't do it."

"And?"

"I've seen you do it, Nagato. You do that a lot."

"I told you, that's different."

"How is that different? It's the exact same thing."

"It's such a small group when I do. It's different if you have to do it for the whole world. As God of the world, I'll have to rule over so many people."

"You've thought this out, haven't you?"

By then, she had gotten to the middle of his hair, and couldn't see the other side. She dragged the chair around the opposite side of the bed, and continued. He never answered her question.

Every chunk that fell landed on the sheets of the bed, or caught between the rods. She started to wonder how she'd remove those without hurting him. She wondered how much it took to hurt him in the first place. If that snag hadn't hurt, how rough had the medics been?

After a few more minutes, she had finished her first task.

"Can I brush it?" She asked.

"Yes."

Since he had been saying yes to all of her requests, she started to get a bit bolder with her questions.

"Can I _wash_ it?"

He hesitated.

"Why?"

"It'll be easier to brush if all the junk comes out of it first."

When he didn't reply immediately, she wondered if she should've told him that. Perhaps now he was going to take back his permission to brush it in the first place.

"Fine."

She got her way with everything after he agreed to that. She told him he'd feel better; that was always her argument. He kept saying yes. He would've done anything to feel just a little bit better.

Not only did she wash his hair, but the rest of him, too, after a bit of convincing. She managed to remove all of the lose hair from the rods without hurting him too much. She got him to brush his teeth, which he actually jumped on as soon as she suggested it.

When she was done, she took a minute to try and even out his clean, but now uneven hair. She didn't do such a good job, but it looked decent enough. However, the bed was now a mess after getting soaked.

"I think maybe we should get you a different bed."

He agreed, but realized he would have to get up for that. He knew he could, as he had done it quite often to relieve himself. That didn't mean he liked standing. It hurt more than just sitting.

She reached her hand out to him, and supported him as he rose from the bed. He moved ever so slowly to the other side of the tent, and stood motionless.

"I'm going to get someone to bring another bed and take that one out," she told him. He didn't want her to, but she promised they wouldn't touch him. And they didn't.

* * *

She has gotten a lot better at cutting His hair. She does it with a kunai now. Today, however, she seems to be having trouble with it.

"How much longer?" He asks impatiently.

She doesn't reply to Him. She can't. She has sheets of paper over her face, covering her mouth and nose.

"Did you undercook something?" He asks her.

She shakes her head.

"Then you're sick."

She shakes her head again.

"Take that thing off your mouth."

She shakes her head. He glares at her for disobeying him

"Why do you keep running for the bathroom, then?"

Unable to speak, she doesn't need to give him an excuse; she drops the kunai and yet again heads for the bathroom. She hears Him sigh as she goes.

As she closes the door, she begins to cough. It doesn't stop for half a minute. When it does, the paper comes off her face, and fuses with her wrist. She drinks from the faucet, trying to rid herself of the scratchy feeling in her throat.

She has lied. She knows she's sick. He had told her to avoid this situation, and she tried. She doesn't know where she got it. She just knows that she's had it for a day and a half, and she's scared. She doesn't want to get Him sick. She can handle it, but she worries that he can't.

After she's scrubbed her hands raw, the paper comes off her arm again. She makes herself another mask, and goes back in.

"I know you're lying to me," He says as she walks in. "You _are_ sick."

Standing on the other side of the room, she thinks it's safe to take the mask off. It floats off in different directions, and she tells him:

"I thought you wouldn't want me here if I was."

"Just because you're sick doesn't mean you have to leave," He says. The mask forms over her face again.

"Take that off," He hisses.

She does, but only to say something.

"I don't want to get _you_ sick."

"Leave it off. It's _your_ immune system that's shot, not mine. If whatever you have isn't making you suffer, it can't be anything strong."

"But—"

"Don't argue with me."

She doesn't want to. She knows it'll make him angry, and she hates making him angry. She's learned the signs that indicate that she shouldn't fight him, and this is one of them. The paper fuses with her wrist again.

"Come here and finish this, now."

"Can you do it yourself? Get Deva to do it?" She asks.

He doesn't reply. He just stares. She knows what that means.

She reluctantly listens to Him. He's right. He told her that if she got sick, it'd be worse than usual. This seemed to be a simple cough. It couldn't be anything more than a cold.

* * *

A/N: Meh… I don't really like this chapter, but… I can't fix it too much. Last chapter soon, guys.


	10. Ozymandias

A/N: Last one, guys. This is the first fic I've ever completely finished! I promise this is a turning point! I will finish everything else now, too! …Eventually. Might take a while, but it WILL get done!

* * *

He has only ever attacked her once. It wasn't completely intentional. He meant to push her away, not to knock her over. But, after being so dependent for a while, he couldn't judge his own strength. He hadn't even realized it was her until it was over. She wasn't in pain, but he seemed to think she was, but that might've been because of how shocked she looked. His reaction to it seemed inappropriate either way.

It was a long time ago that it happened. She feels that it was partially her fault. He wouldn't have done it if she hadn't been so overprotective. Though, she wonders how he would've faired in the beginning if she wasn't. She tells herself he would've died, but thinks that's just her way of pretending she mattered.

He had healed just enough to be away from a bed for more than a few minutes. Those who were still in their army of saw him as their leader, or so he thought. They built him a machine with which to walk, and it became his throne.

She wishes they hadn't, though she hates herself for it.

That was the first time he could do something without her help. It was something so simple. Something he used to do every day. She still had to help him with just about everything else. But, that was his first step toward becoming independent again, which was something he hadn't realized he wanted. When he finally figured that out, she became an obstacle to him, she thinks. It sure seemed that way. Wanting it was just the first step. It quickly became an obsession, and it was _their _fault.

Gods couldn't rule if people thought they were weak.

To them, that's just what he was.

* * *

"Why do you always resist when I try to help with things like this?" She asks Him.

"I can do it myself."

He can't, actually. He just likes to think He can. She always ends up helping at some point, usually against His wishes.

"You won't let me help you with something as serious as an injury—"

"A God can't be wounded so severely, I can always fix it myself," He interrupts. She ignores it. The other bodies, He can fix with Naraka Path's King of Hell. He refuses to use it on Himself, though. He says it's not possible, but she doesn't know if she believes Him. She just can't be sure.

"You'll never let me help you when you're hurt, yet you'll make me do something that even _I _know you could do yourself?"

He pauses, and looks at her through the corner of His eye.

"I never_ make_ you do anything," He hisses. "You could refuse if you hate it so much."

She shakes her head and looks away. She _really_ hates arguing with Him.

* * *

He hadn't been fond of receiving help, even as a kid. He'd take it, but he always seemed to apologize when it was given if it wasn't something life-threatening. She kept telling him he shouldn't. Despite telling her that he would, it never happened.

"Why do you always say you're sorry when someone offers to help?" She asked him once. She had just offered to help clean off some of the dirt and blood off of the used kunai. He'd accepted, but told her he was sorry for bothering her.

"I don't want to bother anyone with this if I don't need to," he told her, putting another one down next to him on the bed. They happened to be staying in a house; an unusual occurrence. The entire area was pretty much abandoned, likely because of the war. Everyone was happy to stay in a stable shelter for a while.

"Nagato, no offence, but you're horrible at cleaning these," she said, sitting on his right.

He smiled, knowing it was true. He picked at a particularly stubborn bit of filth with his nail, but it refused to come off. It was just near the tip, and his finger slipped. The blade swept across the top of his thumb, from the knuckle to the back of his hand. He didn't flinch. It really didn't hurt too badly, though a perfect red bead grew from the injury before falling to the ground. As another began to follow, he took it into his mouth for just a moment. After that, it seemed that the wound stopped, though the cut itself was still red.

"Do you want me to do those?" She asked.

"No, I got it." He told her, wiping his hand on his cloak.

She reached across him to try and take it, but he pulled it just out of her reach. She looked at him and swore he was smiling, just a bit. When she put her hand back down, he did the same. She knew he'd just pull it away if she tried to take it again. She got up on her knees and stood behind him, reaching over his shoulders this time. He put the kunai down and grabbed her wrists, holding her there. She rested her chin on his shoulder.

"I'm tired," he told her. He had actually been admitting this to her recently, instead of pretending to be in perfect shape all the time like he used to. She wasn't surprised by his exhaustion, though. The three of them had been busy that day. She was still quite awake.

"We're not doing anything else today. You should rest for a while," she said, pulling his headband off.

She pulled her hands away, and scooted back a bit. He didn't move. She grabbed his collar and pulled his head back into her lap, and rested her hands on his chest. He felt it rise and fall, and felt his heartbeat. It's funny how strong it was back then. Now, she can barely feel it, and that's on the rare occasion that she gets to put her hands on him.

Seeing that he was no longer holding the kunai, she reached over to try and take it. He put his hand over hers before she could. She thinks it was because he'd feel bad making her do it and not helping.

"I'll do it, Nagato. It won't take me long. I doubt Yahiko wants your hands all cut up, anyway."

He kept her hand pinned, but she pulled it out and grabbed the weapon. He reached up to grab it from her, but she pulled her hand behind her back to quickly. He rolled over and sat on his ankles to look at her. He looked as if she had just taken something very important from him. She guesses now that she kind of had; taking away something that he could've done to be useful. That was something he had always desperately needed.

The upset seemed to disappear quickly, though. He stood up on his knees and leaned forward to take it from behind her, but she leaned away from him. He came closer until she was almost completely flat on her back. He put his hands on either side of her, feeling unstable leaning so far forward. She flung the kunai off the bed and dropped the rest of the way. He tried to push himself up to get it, but she grabbed his cloak and pulled him back down to her.

"Just relax for a while, Nagato," She told him. "You just told me that you're tired."

She really hadn't meant to end up in such a compromising position. However, no matter how innocent and clean-minded Nagato seemed to everyone, he quickly noticed what it looked like. Rarely one to make the first move, he stayed above her, awkwardly waiting to see what she would do next.

She didn't move, either. He had just said he was tired. She was afraid he would've gone along with it even if he didn't really want to, and she didn't want to make him. Now, she thinks it'd be impossible for a boy of his age to really be against it in the first place, so that was never actually an issue.

Today happened to be a day where he did decide to make a move. Figuring that she already had, he thought that's what she wanted. She hadn't really been aiming for that, but once it started she didn't even think of complaining. It was a lot more relaxing than it usually was, having a proper bed instead of the ground with blankets that they always slept in. The group had beds, but those were specifically for those who were injured, and sex wasn't really something they felt like doing when they were sick enough to need those beds.

"I thought you said you were tired?" She asked him. She was kidding, of course, but he seemed a bit taken aback.

"I am," He said quickly, pushing himself back up. He looked a bit scared after he said that. Like he thought she'd be mad at him for it. She smiled and shook her head, pulling him down again. He finally figured out she was messing with him, and went back to what he had been doing.

It ended up being quick. Shirts pushed off the chest, her skirt hiked up around her waist. She opened his cloak, but never too it off. He saw before he began that it wasn't going to be as big of an event as it sometimes was, and finished her first. While he might've been unable to clean a kunai properly, he _was_ quite skilled with his hands. After she was done, he didn't last long.

She stood up for a moment to fix herself after he finished, and picked up the kunai she had pushed onto the ground. When she went to sit back down, he had gone up to the top of the bed to relax like she had told him to. She came and sat against the headboard. Despite being even more exhausted than he had been a few minutes ago, he didn't seem to be going to sleep. He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes glazed over.

"Are you going to rest or not?" She sighed.

He looked at her, and then pushed himself up. He sat there for a few seconds, but surprised her when he reached over and grabbed yet another one of the kunai.

"I told you, I'm not going to make you do this. I was supposed to."

* * *

"Can I get you _anything_, Nagato?" She asks. She sounds desperate.

He quickly shakes his head, looking pained. He's fighting back another coughing fit, she knows.

"Water? Can I get you that?" She asks.

"No."

He barely finishes the word before He's busy choking again. He's sitting in his bed, hunched over sheets damp with his own sweat and the saliva that's come up after some dry heaving from choking so much. She hears Deva stumbling down the hallway as Nagato tries to keep His chakra focused. She can't understand why it's hard for Him, now. He had been in a similar, probably worse, condition when fighting the Kyuubi, but had been able to keep fighting through more than just one of his bodies. Now, He can barely even walk Deva in a straight line. When Deva finally gets into the room, she sees that He has brought Himself some water.

"Nagato, if you'd just relax and stop trying to do it yourself, you'd—"

His glare makes her stop, but she glares back. He looks even weaker than he usually does, and she really doesn't care if they have to argue anymore. She'll do it if it means He'll swallow His pride.

He looks as if He'll say something, but then He stops. His eyes narrow, and He looks confused for a minute. He looks out the window, and she sees Him grip the sheets harder.

"What?" She asks.

"Someone's here."

"Who?" She asks. It's a silly question, since she should know by now that He can't tell. She's the one who does that.

"There are a lot of them," He tells her.

"I'll take care of it, Nagato. Just rest," She says, standing up.

"There are too many."

"You don't know that they're hostile."

He looks at her as if she's crazy. There have been other visitors to the village after God's judgment, but none of them had been friendly. Though, they had only come in twos or threes. There are more of them now.

"It doesn't matter. I'll get better." She says.

"You're being a bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

She is. She knows she is. However, this is different, and they both know that. She wishes he'd swallow his pride, just this once.

* * *

"Are we good people?" Nagato asked Yahiko once, lying on his stomach on his sleeping bag.

It was in the beginning of the war, barely a few months in. They were still losing. Still looking like a tiny, hopeless group of rebelling teenagers. Yahiko still seemed a bit unsure of himself as he tried to lead an entire army, though it was quite small. At that point, the three of them were still new to causing bloodshed. Nagato still hated it. She found him alone sometimes, so very disturbed by the memory of the people he had killed. She never saw him cry. He'd just sit and stare at nothing, wide eyed with a kunai in his hands. She knew enough to leave him be. Whatever was going on inside his head seemed to go away when he was through.

Yahiko hesitated before he answered Nagato's question. After considering it, she looked at Yahiko expectantly. She wanted to know the very same thing.

"Why?" he asked. He was sitting on the ground, leaning back against a bag of their supplies.

"Are we doing the right thing? We're killing people."

"So are they, Nagato," Yahiko sighed.

"We're just as bad as they are, then. We've sunk to their level."

"They're killing people for their own selfish bullshit."

"Aren't we all?"

She shifted in her seat, thinking that Nagato might be right. She stayed quiet and waited for Yahiko's response.

"How are we being selfish?" He asked, sitting up. "They're the ones that fight in _our _country because of _their_ problems."

"If they fought in their own countries, they'd be destroyed just like this one. That wouldn't be fair to them, don't you think?"

Yahiko shook his head, obviously annoyed with this argument. She couldn't tell if he was annoyed at Nagato for not seeing his point, or because he was beginning to see things differently. He stood up and stepped outside.

"What do you think will happen to us after we die?"

She didn't reply to him at first. She was tired. She didn't feel like talking. He turned his head to look at her, though she couldn't see his eyes through his hair. She realized he wanted a response.

"After we die?" She repeated.

"I think we're going to hell for this," he told her, ignoring her new question.

"I don't think so," she muttered. "You don't get sent to hell for _one_ thing."

"It's been more than one thing."

"I'm not saying we'll go straight to heaven."

"What other options are there, then? We don't _deserve_ to go to heaven."

She kept forgetting that he had never learned about these things. He hadn't really known much about anything religious until Yahiko had explained it to him.

"Do you know what Purgatory is, Nagato?"

He didn't reply, and she took it as a 'no'.

"People go there. Good people, who just aren't perfect."

"What's that like?"

She tried to explain it. She'd heard a few different things about it. She told him that people went there to pay for their sins. It was a test. It was where you would repent, and then you'd go to heaven.

"And what decides if you go there instead of hell?"

She didn't know the answer to that. She lied to him. She lied and told him exactly what he wanted to hear. She learned to do that so well. Now, he couldn't even tell the difference.

* * *

She can't be in two places at once, or at least not to the point where she can multitask. He can. Right now, she wishes He couldn't.

She loves Yahiko.

She loved Nagato.

She can't protect both of them at once. She learned that a long time ago. She can't even protect _one_ of them. She hasn't felt so helpless in a long time, and now she's remembering what it feels like. Deva is fighting for His power, and Nagato is fighting for His life.

She wants to go back and beg Nagato to stop, but she knows it won't work. Deva will be destroyed if she does. Nagato will fix him if anything happens, she knows, but she's not sure he _can _in his current condition. She fights alongside Deva, but she can see Him stumble, and lose control even for those split seconds. There aren't as many opponents as Nagato had led her to believe. She wants to kill them as fast as possible.

The faster they die, the faster Deva will go home.

She takes them down one at a time, occasionally swarming Deva to push away His assailants, but she can't take them all down at once. She thinks it'd be easier if He'd just stayed home. He never listens to her.

And then, Deva falls, and He doesn't get up.

He stays on the ground, eyes closed, with such a peaceful face. It takes here a second to notice. Those who have come to harm God know that Deva will not be getting back up and go after His angel.

She hardly cares. Before they can even touch her, she's gone. She's home in just seconds, but she can see that He's not. Nagato is in the same position Deva was. On His side, motionless. She brushes away His hair. His eyes are wide, and rolled back. His cracked lips are white with foam. She doesn't feel anything. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.

He's just not there.

She wonders where He has gone.

She wonders if Yahiko is there.

She wonders if they'll be waiting for her. She'll be joining them soon. She hears the cries of the damned, and knows that she's next.

She doesn't want to fight. She has done that for so long. How nice it'll be to let a _real_ God decide her fate. Perhaps he'll finally let her see Yahiko again. Maybe He'll fix Nagato like she never could. Maybe things will be better than they ever were.

* * *

_I met a traveller from an antique land_

_Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone_

_Stand in the desert... Near them, on the sand,_

_Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,_

_And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,_

_Tell that its sculptor well those passions read_

_Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,_

_The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed._

_And on the pedestal these words appear -_

_"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:_

_Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"_

_Nothing beside remains. Round the decay_

_Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare_

_The lone and level sands stretch far away.'_

* * *

A/N: …Sorry for the kinda lame ending, guys. Couldn't really think of a better way.


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